


Predator’s Passion

by ChaosQuartz



Category: One Piece
Genre: ASL Brothers, Alternate Universe, Dysfunctional Family, F/F, F/M, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Murder Kink, Straw Hat Insanity, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:49:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 43,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27093817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChaosQuartz/pseuds/ChaosQuartz
Summary: In this world of constant change, one must do what they can to survive against impossible odds. With the passing of a great man, arose a new age; one of discovery, freedom, and dreams. It was for all these reasons and more that inspired countless ships to set out on the unforgiving sea. Just as many were able to find their purpose and eternal joy, others were beaten down until all that remained were jagged fragments. It wasn't impossible for these poor souls to be rebuilt, simply that many found the restored individuals a fate worse than death.
Relationships: Crocodile/Donquixote Doflamingo, Monkey D. Luffy / Adventure
Comments: 13
Kudos: 57





	1. Tears of Innocence

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Other Parent AU Drabbles](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18357047) by [FangirlingPuggle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FangirlingPuggle/pseuds/FangirlingPuggle). 



What would you do in order to gain respect? Would you search? Would you kill? Would you risk it all to make a mark? For an average man, any would do, but he…he craved more and he was willing to dye the sea red for it.

It all began with a burning desire.

The desire for fame. Wealth. Power. Acceptance.

However, if one is willing to look past the superfluous excuses you can see the truth buried in the hearts of all men who strive to conquer the seas.

Freedom.

The freedom to choose. The freedom to learn. The freedom to rebel. The freedom to live. The freedom to dream.

This tale began fifty years ago with a battle between the Whitebeard Pirates and the bounty hunter gang known as Cyanide.

The two crews were happily duking it out in the new world, swords and guns flew as the most bizarre mixture of devil fruit powers and haki clashed. While neither side held anything back, one wouldn’t go far as to say that the interactions were of a malicious nature. In fact, if one paid attention, it almost looked like the crews were merely playing with each other. Now this was hardly unusual. The Whitebeard Pirates were making a name for themselves as a tight-knit group that was happy to fight with anyone and more than willing to slaughter any who dared to mess with their own. When it came to little fights like this, both sides were able to enjoy the thrill of duking it out with a worthy opponent.

The only thing that could even be remotely considered odd was the fact a mere guard was engaging with the dreaded Whitebeard himself instead of the actual leader. Perhaps what was a touch more odd was that the guard was managing to hold their own against the force of nature made flesh.

Roulette D. Allison.

By far one of the most insane female warriors to ever sail the New World. Debates popped up on the origin of her name; whether it was her birth name, a moniker, a fake, or a testament to her addiction to risk. Word had it that she never found a fight she didn’t want to join and never started one she couldn’t finish. And in true D fashion, she smiled through every insane plot and deadly scenario she flung herself into.

Naturally, it came as no surprise that she would challenge one of the strongest men in the world without hesitation. Sadly the same could not be said for Edward Newgate. As while he enjoyed a challenging fight, he did have his principles regarding the treatment of women. He acknowledged that they were dangerous and could be deadly opponents, yet while he would cross blades with them he never truly wished them harm. Except for Linlin, that conniving bitch deserved a torment greater than anything Impel Down had to offer.

Of course, this drew Roulette to relentlessly target Whitebeard himself every time their paths crossed. She challenged him again and again, never backing down or giving up, meeting him blow for blow with pure strength and will. Slowly Whitebeard stopped seeing her based on his past perceptions and started viewing her as she was, a fellow force of nature that refused to be denied.

Whitebeard had a loyal crew of sons he deeply cherished, but it would be a lie if he denied the desire to have a powerful woman standing by his side. Eventually he offered her the chance to join his crew, one that she happily took after kicking him in the face. As the years came and went the two of them enjoyed a tender love that was filled with the joy of countless battles.

It all came to head one fateful day.

The Whitebeard Pirates were engaged with the navy and as usual were cleaning the planks with their hides. It seemed as though the fight would end the same way a dozen others had. Or at least that was what it looked like. Apparently, there was this young hotshot vice admiral who was determined to prove herself. Normally it wouldn’t be a problem and she would die, the same as the hundreds of other fools who attempted to do the same.

There was one difference this vice admiral had eaten the Magma-Magma Fruit and was proving slightly more intelligent than the average government dog and that much more cold hearted. The bitch was targeting crew members who were deadlocked with other marines, thus forcing Whitebeard to constantly change position in order to protect his precious family. On top of that, the relentless attacks prevented him from properly unleashing his power, both haki and that of the Tremor-Tremor Fruit. It didn’t help that she didn’t care who she targeted, even endangering her fellow marines who couldn’t doge in time.

This was a grade A bitch who needed to be put down.

It was so obvious a trap, but he refused to abandon his sons. Even as the bitch transformed her arm into a sleek magma lance. It was like someone had struck the world with the Slow-Slow Fruit. He saw it all as though it was happening in slow motion. The arm turned deadly substance racing towards him as he shielded his sons with his body. He watched as his wife lunged in front of him. He saw her determination to protect her family no matter the cost. He saw himself losing the only woman he only loved, losing her.

The sleek molded magma weapon burst through her chest, just south of her heart. Allison’s wrath and pain fueled scream (in truth she sounded more of a fearsome, inhuman entity than a woman) brought all fighting to a stop. Newgate was horrified by the sight, he had witnessed many terrible acts in this life but this? The woman he loved had thrown herself in front of a lethal attack for him. She saved his life and she was still moving. Somehow pushing past the agony and rage, the infamous Whitebeard smirked as he saw his treasure’s arm coated in black.

One haki infused neck-snapping punch to the jaw and not even a logia user could escape death’s embrace. As the Vice Admiral’s headless corpse hit the deck the rest of the marines quickly abandoned the pirate vessel. A few of the Whitebeard snipers and gunners worked to pick off a few more dogs out of spite. At the very least, the Magma-Magma Fruit was no longer in their hands. They won and robbed the marines of a powerful soldier, but at a deep cost.

The wound was meant to be fatal, yet through sheer will and stubbornness, Allison beat the overwhelming odds and survived. For four years, she lived with a horrible wound that would never truly heal. This handicap inhibited her fighting style and forced her to take a back seat to what she loved more than not. The strain that came from just living slowly built up over the years. The pressure kept growing and growing until she couldn’t hold it back anymore and on the worst day imaginable. A day that should have been joyous. After years of trying she finally was able to bear a child with the only man she ever loved.

She hated that as she watched her little one enter the world she could feel her strength wane. No matter how viciously she struggled to keep hold onto life, it passed through her grip like grains of sand. She had fought and clawed and struggled to get where she was, no one offered her an easy life, and to think it’d be taken away by some worthless brat who fancied herself a bringer of justice. She didn’t want to leave her family. One couldn’t expect a man to provide a child with all the love and support they deserved after losing their partner.

But there was nothing she could do. Even now the concerned voices of the idiots she had grown to cherish grew more and more muffled. It was as if she had been thrown down a deep dark well and the darkness was just pressing in on all sides until not even her own thoughts remained. It was so cold. Why was it cold? All she could make out was that her child was a healthy girl.

“Nice to meet you, Ilia.”

Even hearing her own voice felt odd. All wobbly and weak, she’d normally kick the ass of anyone who spoke like that. There’s probably some karma in that or whatever righteous crap her grandmother believed. But this day wasn’t about her, it was about the one who had a chance to live. The very least she could give her child was a name. Looking to the man who had earned her heart, she tried to convey everything she’d never be able to say.

Dying really sucked, but she’d never believed that her time was wasted. No, this was a good life even with all the setbacks, if nothing else it made it all the more worthwhile. Lifting her arm, that suddenly weighed the same as the Moby Dick (she never understood why he’d gift such a magnificent craft such a crude name) she punched his shoulder with all the strength she could muster. This was her last chance to prove to the young fool just how much he meant to her. She made her choice and she didn’t regret it.

“I really had one wild ride.” Roulette D. Allison left this world with a content grin, greeting death with dignity as any true D.

Feeling the strength leave his beloved’s punch, Newgate could only grit his teeth in despair. He knew this day would happen. It was only due to the power of a D’s stubbornness that they were able to spend so much time together. He could never forget how much pain she bore no matter how she tried to hide it. He couldn't simply ignore seeing her inhale pain pills every day just so she could walk around the ship without collapsing.

All that was left of her spirit were the memories he held close and the tiny bundle being handed to him. Taking a breath Newgate centered himself, it wouldn’t do for his biological child’s first memory of her father to be wracked with grief.

Looking at the innocent face swaddled by soft blankets he just..took it all in. He was a father. A single father with his first infant cradled in his hands. In so many ways this would prove a far more difficult challenge than any battle.

“Hello Ilia. I’m your father. I’m sorry but your mother...she won’t be staying with us anymore. Don’t worry I’ll never abandon you.”

On that day, Whitebeard swore he would protect his daughter. That he would treat her the same as any of his sons. That he would train her to the point where no one could beat her, so no one would be able to hurt her.

If only he was able to keep that promise.

* * *

The Whitebeard Pirates carefully worked to ensure no one knew of Ilia’s existence.

It was too risky to allow anyone outside of the main crew to discover her parentage. Whitebeard was one of the most dangerous pirates in all the seas and you know the marines would do anything to catch him off guard, including kidnapping his only biological daughter. For all their supposed morals, they weren’t shy from kidnapping infants and holding them over jagged rocks to get their way. Not even close. Not to mention his thousands of enemies and rivals who just ached to see him fall.

He didn’t hesitate to give his daughter her mother’s first name. As his time with the Rocks Pirates increased his bounty, he feared sharing his name would only invoke more attackers to target his baby girl. Despite Allison's tremendous skill, she was already fading into obscurity as new names took the spotlight. It wasn't fair, but it played to his advantage.

Roulette D. Ilia quickly differentiated herself from her mother. The doctors had feared something was horribly wrong when the child had opened her golden eyes, perfectly identical to her father’s (he was quite proud), only to remain practically silent.

Instead of greeting the world with a healthy cry, she seemed to regard life as a danger to be carefully examined. It was as if she knew the great tragedy that just transpired. Her feathery soft locks were black with faint purple highlights in contrast to her mother’s fiery red hair yet similar to his father’s, at least what he could remember from him. Even with all the red of her skin finally being exposed to fresh oxygen, Whitebeard could tell the child shared her mother’s grey pallor.

Ilia quickly made herself known as a strange child, one with very disturbing behaviors. One day, the Whitebeard Pirates had decided to stop at an island in order to restock. Ilia had taken the opportunity to explore the island and study the inhabitants. Roughly an hour until they were scheduled to ship off one of his sons found a horrifying scene.

Ilia surrounded by a pool of blood.

Instincts took over as he grabbed the four-year-old and started to run back towards the Moby Dick. He never noticed that the child didn’t have so much as a scrape. Nor did he see the body that had been carefully, if somewhat crudely, flayed. Or the bloody knife in her hand.

Whitebeard didn’t want to think about it, I mean what parent would, but there was no avoiding the truth when it’s repeatedly thrown in your face. There was something wrong with his daughter, something beyond the norm even for a pirate’s child.

It started small. Wanting to learn how to shoot straight or properly use knives. He didn’t have a problem with instructing those who knew of her to teach the basics in between her studies. She proved to be a very dedicated student, absorbing everything and anything she could get her hands on. He didn’t shy away from boasting one of his children could carry out every task on a ship to Linlin. The gluttonous bitch was so red. No regrets. Then it grew more concerning.

Questions about manipulating rival crews, interrogation techniques, how to efficiently break every bone in a human's body.

One of his sons told him that she had killed eleven men during one of their stops. When he asked if it were true, she merely clarified that it had started as one that attempted to grab her then she had to kill ten more to prevent a scene. Murder was nothing special, they all had done it, but it was the way she talked about it. As though killing those other ten had been nothing, but a waste of her time. Like snuffing the light out of another’s eyes was merely a chore to be crossed off.

He did not berate his first mate when he voiced his terror over her malicious and rightfully disturbing behavior. He had never raised a child and feared he may have done something horribly wrong, but in the end all he could do was try to do the best he could. If nothing else, it showed that his daughter would grow into a fearsome pirate. Right?

His greatest wish was that he’d never have to watch his child die like her mother did. He feared that would break him. He had lost so many loved ones, both before and after he took to the seas. He failed so many times.

He just wanted to protect one person. He tried to keep her safe, keep her close, but it only served to push her further away. She voiced a desire to sail on her own and forge her own family, but he was quick to shoot her down. The seas were unforgiving and only growing more dangerous as Roger gained more and more infamy. He had already lost Allison and she was one of the strongest people he ever fought. Just thinking about that brutal takedown when she broke Garp’s jaw still sent a jolt down his spine. Getting back to the original topic. What chance did a seventeen year old have? Any time he pondered changing his mind, he saw horrible possibilities flash before his eyes.

Betrayal by comrades.

Death at sea.

Killed by marines.

Auctioned as a slave.

He couldn’t-He couldn’t risk it.

Instead, he tried to keep her safe while he oversaw her skills flourish with absolute efficiency. She may vanish whenever they stopped to restock, but she always returned before the last supplies were on board. Usually, she was carrying two or three new books about proper business management and multi-ocean economics. Never thought one of his children would be interested in such things, but so long as it kept her from feeding stray marines to whatever vicious creature was in the vicinity he wouldn’t question it.

He did wish they were closer. In her early years, she would sit on his knee as he regaled her with tales of his exploits as a pirate. Would tell her about his family and how it all came to be. Those years were the best. They were close and she looked at him with...well, what he later learned was her equivalent to love. Despite having the same eyes, he quickly learned her's were much less expressive and required a keen eye to decipher.

Huh, if only he could turn back the clock.

These days it seemed like she was doing everything in her power to avoid talking or spending time in general with any member of her family. He supposed it could just be normal teenage rebellion, but that didn't feel like her. There was also something weird going on with how she viewed her name. It was her mother's last gift, yet now it seemed like she was taking it as an insult whenever someone called her by it. If he didn't know any better than he could have sworn that she was restraining herself from slitting the throat of however uttered that name.

He didn't understand it, but something was going on in his daughter's head. He just wished she would let him in.

* * *

“You killed your father? How?” A seventeen year old Illia questioned. He was actually quite curious. Patricide wasn’t exactly something a runt like this brat would go bragging about. Yet he just went out and said it. The brat had balls, he’d stay that much.

It was a standard trip through the North Blue and he had come across a strange child. He wasn’t sure why, but when he saw the boy poorly torturing what appeared to be a lowly information broker he had to correct him. At first the child froze, much like his so-called 'brothers' when he decided to relieve his opponent of a limb instead of simply killing them. Soon enough he gathered his senses and became affronted, acting as though he couldn’t make a mistake.

Such an attitude meant nothing to Illia, so he proceeded to demonstrate the proper method to remove a living man’s face, after severing the vocal cords this was supposed to be a lesson after all. As musical as the screams were, the brat clearly needed all his attention on the technique he was trying to teach him. The brat scowled at Ilia for a short time until his curiosity wore him down. A twisted grin stretched across his face as he began asking questions.

It started with blades angles and how to identify major arteries so the victim doesn’t bleed out too quickly. He never shut up. Kept asking questions about how he knew these facts and where he practiced, slowly moving to more personal questions. They continued long after the idiot was dead. They traded questions and insults back and forth, neither paying the blood soaking their clothing any mind. Growing uncomfortable, Doflamingo led him to a small piece of undisturbed beach.

Illia sat down on the white sand without issue. Ever since he had eaten the sand-sand fruit it felt weird not being surrounded by the course, grainy material. Doflamingo sat down a little ways off only to turn and lay his head across Ilia's lap. Ilia could have shoved him off or buried him alive for such a thoughtless act, but he was actually in a good mood. The little exchange gave him more respect than he ever received on his father's ship. He almost felt the urge to smile, but he settled for weaving his fingers through feathery locks. They were surprisingly as soft as they looked.

“Aimed a gun at the back of his head and pulled the trigger.” It was a simple sentence, spoke as though he were admitting to being a blonde. Didn’t hide the cruel satisfaction as Doflamingo envisioned the scene again and again. Just imagining the trigger, the weight of the gun, how the spray of red felt so right after enduring horror after horror since his damned father cursed them to live like mortals.

At least he got to die like them.

Ilia sighed at the admittance of such a simple death. While effective for most, it was useless for his plans. “Something like that won’t work on my father.”

“Oh?”

“He didn’t get to where he is by being weak. A single gunshot wouldn’t slow him down.” He’d seen his father flick away cannon fire like it was mere dust. A bullet wouldn’t do shit. At most he’d treat it like a mosquito bite and go back to drinking.

“Then let's brainstorm.”

The two of them spent nearly three hours doing just that. Talking over different methods to kill an unkillable opponent. Ways to get the jump on a force of nature made flesh. The ideas they discussed were brutal, conniving, and despicable. He even explained why he was contemplating killing his father and many of his so-called 'siblings'. From there, they expanded their ideas to incorporate different physiologies, favorite weapons, and mental torture. The brat nearly choked to death from laughing too hard. He really loved the concept of mentally breaking your opponent. The two talked and laughed, bringing up new tactics and how to alter existing torture techniques in order to obtain fatal results. It was fun.

Suddenly Doflamingo said something very odd. “I like you.”

Ilia blinked. He’d never had someone say that to him before. Mostly everyone either tolerated him due to his father, feared him due to his interests, or ignored him. He should probably say something back, right? For all his annoyances the brat wasn’t too bad. Better company than most. “I find you tolerable as well.”

“We’ll be shipping out soon. Odds are we’ll never see each other again.” There was no telling if he’d venture to the North Blue again and even if he did there’s no guarantee Doflamingo would still be in the area, much less alive.

“You don’t have to go with them. Stay and join my family. You’ll never be seen as less than who you are ever again.” Doflamingo didn’t rise from his position, but his hand swiftly grasped the elder’s left as though he had found something precious he never wanted to let it out of his sight. There was so much to learn from this lovely stranger. He felt like he was back in the holy land.

Ilia wasn’t sure about this sensation. It was unfamiliar territory. Almost as much as the barely perceivable feeling of thin strands wrapping around his arm. Curious. “Tempting, but I already have plans. I want to create my own family. I have my own ambitions and I’m sure there are more than a few idiots you intend to crush along the way.”

“In that case when we meet again, let’s do something special,” Doflamingo said.

“Like what?” He titled his head slightly.

“We’ll know it when we see it. So swears a child of the sea.” Doflamingo reiterated proudly.

“So swears a child of Davy Jones.” Ilia raised an eyebrow, moderately impressed. “You know the code. I’m impressed.” Usually kids learned the code by working as cabin boys or apprentices under older pirates. But from his stories, the brat was the captain and none of his family members had prior experience.

Seeing the growing curiosity Doflamingo smirked. “The next time we meet, maybe I’ll tell you how I learned it. Now onto more immediate matters. How exactly are you going to escape your old man’s crew?”

“I was given a chance to fight.” If this worked, no one would be able to find him. There’d be too much chaos and if he played his cards right he’d have a few years before anyone got wise.

“Will you at least give me a name to search for then the next round of wanted posters?”

“I don’t plan on making myself known until I have amassed a proper crew.” It would simply draw the old man’s attention or lead people to make the connection thus robbing him of being seen as his own pirate. No, he planned on playing it smart. He would gather a loyal crew, amass information about anything and everything he could, then he would begin his true journey.

Although the brat did bring up a good point. If he wanted to be taken seriously as a man, he couldn’t go by Ilia anymore. Fuck, he hated that name. Everytime it was used to address him, he had to restrain himself from tearing into a bastard until he was painted crimson. It didn’t fit! It never felt right!

So the question was, who was he? What name spoke to him as his true self? Hell of a question to be sure. He probably should have been thinking about it for years, but he had other things to worry about. Quickly, he ran through all the names he had come across during his travels, not one felt right. Besides if this was to be his start then he couldn’t just take a name from someone else. That wouldn’t be his.

He wanted something that was his and his alone.

Fuck, why was this so hard! Damn it. Why can’t this be like those bananadiles? He knew he loved them the moment he saw them killing those sea kings. He was utterly smitten as he threw that marine into their waiting jaws. They were so vicious, so perfect. He wanted a name like that. Something that would describe who he felt like inside, that described the vicious predator he knew he could be. Unfortunately, there wasn’- Wait? Could it, could it really be that simple?

In his head it made sense, but what about in the real world. Only one way to find out. “Crocodile.” Yes, that is who he is. It feels...good. As if a massive weight was lifted from his shoulders. His mother meant well. She couldn’t have known, but every time he heard that name he wanted to break something. No more.

As thanks for the brat helping him along, he combed his fingers through golden locks until his breaths evened out. Checking that he was asleep, Crocodile used his powers to remove the bloodstains from the brats clothing and leave a circle of dry sand to keep him from getting sick. Slowly his lower body turned to sand and he replaced his lap with a small dune as a pillow.

“See you on the seas, brat.”

With nothing to stop him, Crocodile made his way to the Moby Dick he still had a lot of preparations to complete. But this was a start. The start of his future. All those years of keeping his head down and his mouth shut were about to pay off. And if that demon wanted to help him along, he’d give him the fight of his worthless life.

Time to leave his mark on the world.

* * *

Whitebeard wasn’t surprised to find out she had left in the middle of the night. He wasn’t surprised to find her years later. What surprised him was that person she had become. He had heard rumors of a pirate crew gaining power as they conquered rival crews only to release them for future favors. They were supposed to be led by a ruthless captain by the name of Crocodile.

The Golden Eye Pirates weren’t stirring any waves or making overly ambitious moves. No, they did everything not to piss off the higher ranked crews until they could take them down.

Impressive. Such a crew was worthy of investigation. Even if they were sticking to the underworlds and the beginning of Paradise, something told him these youngsters were going to have a future. They didn’t race through obstacles with brute force. There was a precise purpose to their work, such finesse was deserving of praise and spoke volumes of intelligence.

Maybe he’d have the chance to recruit them once they decided to cross the Red Line.

He was such a fool.

* * *

In the many years that Vergo was fortunate enough to know Doflamingo he had come to expect many acts of cruelty and kindness that to an outsider would appear utterly random. His king had a keen eye for detecting talent and was more often than not able to turn any target into a dependable pawn or a devoted member of the family. Those that resisted…well if threats or persuasion didn’t work, they would prove entertaining in death.

Crocodile was a unique one. Normally Doffy’s interest lasted about a month before working towards bending them to his will. Crocodile managed to hold his king’s attention for nearly half a decade. Curious and wishing to further understand his master’s will he started his own investigation.

Over the centuries, the marines had culminated quite an extensive network of spies, informants, and detectives in order to gather as much information about the millions of pirates who threatened the 'peace' of the world. But that didn’t necessarily mean they knew everything about each pirate who flew a jolly roger.

Whenever someone became a pirate it was common to abandon their birth name or lie about their origins, at least it was for the ones who had a shred of concern for those they left behind. The marines had a rather nasty habit of threatening loved ones, if a pirate crew was deemed to become a dangerous threat in the future. Even children and the elderly were not excused from their cruelty. An effective threat that regularly led to the abandonment of families and even more pirates changing their names.

With this in mind, it wasn’t surprising that Crocodile’s folder lacked a native island or exact date of birth. What was surprising was just how little information there was overall, due to his pirate career officially starting when he was eight and Doffy’s interest.

Sensing there was more to it he volunteered to aid the marines stationed in Paradise, specifically those docked on a bustling nation of Alabasta where Crocodile was noted to favor. He spent one month on constant patrol until he saw the grey skinned man. He followed at a distance, purposefully allowing the elder to leave his sight only for him to regain the lost distance once the coast was clear. Mostly he was meeting contacts or taking in the local culture. Nothing special to deserve Doffy’s fixation.

Or at least that’s what he thought until he saw him in action. The man was a force of nature with a cruel streak deeper than the six oceans. He tore into the weak pirate crew without hesitation or mercy. Their screams filled the air, only dying out when he grew bored with them. With a mere touch all the corpses and blood dried out and became new piles of sand, not a single trace remained of the overwhelming beating that just took place.

It was so obvious, Vergo resisted the urge to smack himself. Crocodile was far from your average pirate. The reason the Marines had such limited information on him was due to careful planning and manipulation on his part. Crocodile never allowed them to witness what he was truly capable of and any who got wise were swiftly dealt with. Were Vergo a more whimsical man he might equate this long ruse to a masterful poem.

The main flaw of the bounty system is that the Marines and World Government needed to be aware of a pirate’s powers and actions in order to grant them an appropriate estimate. Due to Crocodile purposefully going out of his way to avoid recognition and remain anonymous his bounty would never reflect his true power. Thus, granting him the vital element of surprise against bounty hunters and overconfident rival pirates.

In some strange way, Doffy and Crocodile were two sides of the same coin. Both clearly had suffered in the past and that pain molded who they grew up to be. Masks were used to hide their true emotions; Doflamingo’s wide grin in that regard was no different than Crocodile’s perpetual bored expression. And above all else, they were dangerous in how they exploited their resources.

Crocodile tended to err on the side of caution while Doflamingo didn’t care who witnessed his might. To the fallen god, it didn’t matter who saw his abilities, in the end they were walking corpses. Both reveled in the fear they caused and seemed to follow a similar mindset on dealing with weaklings.

Naturally they had quite a few differences, but in the end the similarities could not be ignored. With his suspicions confirmed, Vergo returned to his station eager to see how his young master would approach his mirror.


	2. The Dawn of an Era

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Death is only the beginning and that was never more true than for one Gol D. Roger. His final words led to the creation of something great and terrible. But no one will know for certain until they hoist the flag and set sail.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This work is the culmination of months worth of enjoying the fandom's many incredible artists. For those of you already guessed the basic premise, yes it's a bit played out but I couldn't help myself.  
> This is merely an outlet to enjoy myself and I hope you will have a pleasant experience reading it.

It didn’t seem possible.

Gol D. Roger, King of the Pirates, walking down the streets of Loguetown in chains.

The air was hot and humid, filled with the whispers of disbelief. People lined Main Street and leaned out windows of the nearby buildings. There were even a few groups formed on the rooftops. It was quite a turn out and not a single person could truly believe their eyes.

All focus was on the towering giant of man who somehow managed to dwarf everyone despite being shackled and led to his death. Roger walked with his head held high, a massive grin plastered on his face. Those watching compared him to a general in a victory parade. Marines stood watch at equal spacing along the street, yet not one vice admiral, admiral, or fleet commander was in sight.

Wealth. Fame. Power. Gol D. Roger had attained this and everything life had to offer. These were his last moments of life, but he acted as though it was his crowning achievement.

Reaching the execution platform that had been constructed solely for his death, Roger climbed without a thought of turning back. You could see the guards sweating under their helmets, not even they knew what was going on in that man’s mind. But they knew if he changed his mind, there would be a thing they could do it stop him.

At the top, a single guard had this to say, “Do you have any final words?”

Roger turned to the man, his eyes overshadowed by his hair and towering height. “Would you kindly remove these? They’re starting to chafe something fierce.” He spoke clearly, unafraid and kind.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that.” It went against protocol and the thought of touching the man terrified him.

“Oh, come now. I’m not going to run.” He nearly laughed at the thought. He had nowhere to go. He was out of time.

“I’m sorry, sir.” The guard stuttered. He didn’t know why he added the formal address, but it just felt right. This man was a king, in a way.

“Hmm…That’s a little depressing…” Won’t even grant on old man the pleasure to spend his last moments pain free. Walking a few more feet, the king took a seat. Crossing his legs, he took in his last view of the mortal world. At least Sengoku was kind enough to grant him an execution with such a lovely view. “Well, let’s get this over with.”

The crowd watched with bated breath. They were about to see the impossible become reality.

The guards crossed their blades in preparation for the single thrust that would end in death.

“PIRATE KING!” A lone voice called out from the crowd. “WHAT DID YOU DO WITH YOUR TREASURE?! IT’S SOMEWHERE IN THE GRAND LINE, ISN’T IT?! THE GREATEST REASURE THE WORLD HAS EVER SEEN! YOU FOUND IT, DIDN’T YOU?!”

“Insolence! Shut up!” One of the executioners shouted. They could not afford any slip ups here.

The man continued unabated by such weak warnings. “YOUR ONE LEGENDARY TREASURE? ONE PIECE!”

And just like that the crowd was reinvigorated. They wanted to know what became of the ultimate treasure. The Pirate King could not die until he gave them something.

High up on the platform Roger took in the commotion, his grin still firmly in place.

His treasure? The One Piece.

What a complex question. Were they talking about his crew? The family he forged eternal bonds with as they conquered the impossible. The people he grew to love and cherish more than anything. Looking out at the crowd, he recognized a few faces. Rayleigh. Crocus. Gaban. Taro. He had no doubt others were hiding just out of sight, even though he wished they were on the other side of the world. They didn’t have to see this. He hated doing this to them. He just couldn’t hold out any longer. After everything they’d been through, they deserved a stronger captain. One who wouldn’t be reduced to this.

Was he referring about his two apprentices? Buggy and Shanks. The two brats he found in the gutters and made proud members of his crew. So many people said he was crazy for taking them on as cabin boys, but he knew better. He knew those two had the makings of something special. He’d be the first to admit he wasn’t the best caretaker, he made many, many, so many mistakes, but he tried to learn from them. He liked to think he wasn’t terrible as a father figure. He took time to learn about and care for the boys, he was so proud of how far they’d come from the scrawny alley rats he brought aboard. And they weren’t done yet.

Were they talking about his beloved Rouge and her fearsome temper? The women he loved and adored, even as she spent decades threatening to relieve the Marine’s nightmare of him ever conceiving children? The women he fought besides when it was darkest and brightest. Her parents were not exactly happy to learn their baby girl had hooked up with one of the most wanted men on the planet, but in the end all that mattered was that she was happy. They were good people and she’d need them now more than ever. He was sorry he had to leave her like this.

Were they speaking of the child he sired, but would never have the chance to meet? The stubborn and confident heir he always dreamed about? He wished he’d have been able to see them come into the world. He wished that he could have held them at least once. But no. He only hoped Rouge wasn’t alone. She didn’t deserve to face the challenge alone. He hoped they wouldn’t grow to hate him. He’d be with them if he could. He was so happy to hear he was going to have a child and with such a remarkable woman. He knew they were going to inherit the best of both of them, so long as that’s the only genetics they received.

Were they merely talking about the miles of gold and jewels he claimed for himself during his countless voyages? If they were, they’re going to be a tad disappointed. He spent damn near all of it he didn’t hand off to his crew and his allies. Then there was the small mountain he used to pay off his hundreds of bar tabs. What? Just because he was a pirate didn’t mean he was ignorant of basic decency. Gold was all well and good, but he found that it just didn’t warm the heart like a roaring party with one’s crew.

But sadly, not everyone understood that. But if they sailed the same seas then maybe they would. All across this crazy world they sailed and with every challenge they overcame they grew closer as the sabers of their enemies drew ever nearer. Perhaps that was what he should share? Yes, the perfect way to reignite the true essence of piracy. He couldn’t help but laugh at it all.

“Wahahahaha.” A journey to Laugh Tale (or Raftel if you use the original tongue). The birth of a new generation of true pirates, who sailed the seas to choose their own futures and forge their own bonds.

His laughter silenced all. A heavy mixture of fear and anticipation choked the air all caused by one simple act.

“Wahahahaha. You want my treasure?” He asked, smiling wide as ever. The crowd leaned forward eager to know. Frantic to hear what became of such a mind-blowing trove of unimaginable wealth and knowledge.

“All right!” “That’s enough!” The executioners tried to regain control, but it was far too late.

“It’s yours! I left it all in one place!” His answer stunned the crowd and touched the hearts of all who heard.

“Execute.” The blades descended. They had to stop this.

“Now you just have to find it!!” The swords met their targets, piercing flesh and bone until his heart stopped beating. Blood poured from his wounds and pooled around his cooling body. But the dye had been cast. The bell had been rung.

A hush fell over the crowd. It was the end of an era. The world’s greatest pirate was dead, killed before their very eyes. The once imposing figure would never sail another vessel or enjoy another adventure.

“YYYEEEEEEAAAHHHHHH!!!!”

“WWWWWOOOOOOAAAAAAAHHHHHH!”

“YYYYYYYAAAAAAAYYYYYYYY!!!”

“AAAALLLLRRRRIIIIGGGGGGHHHHHHTTTTT!”

The crowd erupted in a sea of joy and inspiration. Pirates from every Blue who had visited, civilians who had no place having dreams of conquering the sea, and even a few of their fellow marines were swept up in the tide of pure excitement.

The higher ranked officers looked on in horror. This wasn’t supposed to happen. This was meant to kill the age of piracy, crush the dreams of discord. Instead Roger turned the tables on them. He had this planned from the very beginning. That man in the crowd must have been one of his crew members. Even in death that smile mocked them. Damnit, they couldn’t allow word to spread.

* * *

It was raining. Mere moments ago, it was nothing but blue skies as far as the eye could see. Yet minutes after the Pirate King’s death rain clouds had descended upon this meager island.

How fitting. Even the heavens couldn’t keep a straight face before this farce. A great man died, a pirate he proudly was, but only an ignorant fool would be so blind to not see how he cherished his crew. He was a far better man than most marines who claimed to fight in the name of justice.

The crowd thousands deep that stood before the platform saw something truly terrifying. When a man is pierced through the heart, both lungs, and the liver, the normal reaction is for the body to become limp and quickly slump to the ground in a graceless heap.

But when it came to Roger his back remained firm and strong. Marines, civilians, and pirates alike waited for the first sign of weakness only to find themselves left wanting. Not even his smile, wide and brimming with endless optimism dulled in defeat. In the end, the marines hadn’t won anything. Roger managed to turn everything, including his death, into a sign of the World Government’s weakness.

It was inspiring.

Or at least that’s how one observer interpreted it.

Crocodile had seen it all. The fear in the executioner’s eyes. How they desperately went for the kill once Roger opened his mouth. But more than that, he saw the spark.

The spark of hope that would ignite the aspirations and dreams of all who would hear his final words. Even now he can hear the excited whispers as veteran pirates and normal civilians alike debated on what the One Piece is and where Roger would have hidden it.

Either way it wouldn’t do him any good to stay out in the open much longer. The plaza and docks were crawling with marines. Fortunately, he booked rooms for half his entire crew, while the rest stayed with the ship in order to reduce the chance of capture. Crocodile estimated with all the energy in the air, it wouldn’t be safe to leave for three days, maybe five to be sure.

As for right now, he wanted to get out of the rain. He felt heavy and confined as the moisture locked him in this form. A form he loathed to this day. As he matured his body continued to defy his wishes. There was only so much chest binding could do. He tried to find out where the owner of the Horm-Horm Fruit was and just be rid of this body, but his search remained unsuccessful. While his crew respected his true nature and tried to temper his rage, it didn’t do shit against the perverts who thought they had the right to feel him up. Although he would admit seeing his family tear them to shreds for him was touching. 

“Salutations, my dear wani.”

He knew that voice. It was years ago and the owner was still in the infancy of his youth, but their was no mistaking that voice.

Bracing himself, Crocodile was greeted by a truly deplorable sight.

Pink.

So much pink. All of it surrounding the brat he met five years ago. He’d grown quite a bit. The fucker was even taller than him now! Crocodile felt slighted at having to look up at the brat. At least the creepy ass smile was still the same. Except now he looked like his fucking namesake.

“Seems your fashion sense has hit a new low.”

“And it seems you still possess a cold heart.” Doflamingo returned with a pleased grin. “Come. Let’s talk.” He slipped an arm around the shorter man’s shoulders, his hand contorted in a possessive grip.

A brush of observation haki alerted Crocodile to the single thread wrapped around his left hand. It was infused with armament haki, meaning he’d have to use his own to counter it. However, the conflicting ripples would alert the nearby marines to their presence or at least the experienced ones. Looks like he is forced to comply, for now.

“Captain?” Rackham John, his navigator, asked. His pistol was already removed from its holster. Looking around, he saw the rest of his crewmates had armed themselves. He was quite proud.

“Return to the rooms. I’ll handle this.”

His crew traded concerned glances before obeying his command. Normally he would be annoyed, but given who was leering at him, he’d make an exception.

“Given your history it’s no surprise you’re here, though I thought you’d put more effort into staying out of sight.” Doflamingo commented as he led them through the crowd. While no one really paid too much attention to them, they parted in advance for them as though they sensed something. They didn’t want to involve themselves with it and simply stepped aside.

“It was a calculated risk. The marines will soon find that they have much more than me to worry about.” As far as the marines were concerned, he was just a no name pirate who hadn’t even managed to earn a bounty. Not worth their time with all the madness the execution was stirring up.

“Ah yes. Never making a move without a reason or several back up plans in the wings.” He had done a bit of research on his old mentor.

Vergo was quite generous in conducting his own investigation on the man. It seemed his modus operandi was to scope out scenes before striking with a minimum of four back up plans in the eventuality something goes horribly wrong. Not a bad approach, considering Doflamingo’s style was to shoot the bastards between the eyes before they ever found out what hit them, but it clearly was working for him.

“Is there a purpose to this discussion or are you merely looking for an excuse to hear yourself prattle on?” Crocodile glared at him from the corner of his eye. He didn’t like being touched and the rain made him feel far too human. He may have been born human, but ever since eating the Sand-Sand Fruit he found that certain sensations no longer felt normal or even remotely healthy.

“Mean.” Doflaimngo pouted at the elder. Swiftly returning to his standard grin. “I wanted to catch up. It’s been years and I wanted to see my heartless tutor.” He could never forget the time they spent together.

“You’ve managed to make something of yourself in the North Blue.” By which he meant picking fights with every other marine vessel and killing hundreds. The chaos and destruction he was causing as the latest scourge of the North Blue was making headlines in Paradise.

“Yes, but we both know that’s not all I’ve been doing. Just as you’ve been keeping active yourself.” Whispers carried the most fascinating tale about a mysterious new player in the underworld.

Seeing Crocodile bite down on his cigar at the insinuation, Doflamingo laughed as his suspicions were proven accurate.

Guided by the blond brat, Crocodile was led to a prestigious hotel. In the corner of his eye, he saw a young brat staring at the platform with wide eyes. His white hair made him stand out from those around him, but there was something else. That brat had an air about him, a sense of conviction and honor that was all but nonexistent in the idiots he was surrounded with on a regular basis.

He had a feeling they’d cross paths again.

* * *

The penthouse suite in the most expensive hotel on the island proved to be worthy of its rank.

The room was divided into six smaller rooms: two bedroom, two baths, a dining area, and a drawing room. The furniture was made of high-end materials, hand carved and freshly polished to a blinding shine. Expensive artwork decorated the walls in tasteful increments, somehow finding the right balance between too much and too little.

Most importantly the bed in the master bedroom was positive massive by the standards of normal humans. Should a normal six-foot man try this bed, they would end up swimming in silk sheets. For men of their stature, it was a pleasant change not having to worry about their limbs hanging off.

When the two men entered the room, they finished their conversation, enjoyed a quick drink, and got down to the inevitable.

If you asked Crocodile how it happened, not even he could explain why he humored the brat. All he remembered was sharing a glass of wine and not killing the pigeon when he leaned in for a kiss. Then it was hot blooded passion as the two stripped in a savage make out session.

For hours the two had devoured one another. Clothing was scattered around the room without rhyme or reason. Sweat, blood, and other fluids mingled and staining once pristine sheets. Bite marks decorated pale necks, starting to turn red and purple as they started to bruise. Thighs ached with the sweetest pains in tribute to the wonderful ecstasy they shared.

A series of long echoing bangs aroused Doflamingo from his blissed out state.

“What’s with all the noise?” Doflamingo muttered.

“Some intrepid moron rang the bell for Roger. Must have been a former marine.” Crocodile mused from the edge of the bed. A cigar was loosely held in his left hand as he enjoyed the moment.

The tradition of ringing a bell in honor of the dead had started as a method of coping for deceased navy soldiers. Then it extended heralding in the new year and the end of the previous one. And on and on, until there was a specific ring for every occasion.

But this one…this one was clearly intended to honor the death of a good, if insane man.

Doflamingo turned to the window, somewhat surprised that it was still pouring outside, making a mental note to hunt down the idiot who was ruining his buzz. “The rain isn’t letting up at all.” The clock on their nightstand showed it was nearly midnight, yet the music and sound of drinks being poured was still going strong. “Are they still partying? In this weather when most intend to ship out? Seems they traded their common sense for energy.” Pulling himself up, he didn’t even need to see the fools to know they were doomed.

“You’re one to talk.” The man had been insatiable. It had taken nearly everything he had just to get this break. Crocodile took in another drag, thinking over the scenes outside and what must be happening in every bar and hotel on the island. “Rain and constant parties. Even without knowing the man everyone came together to create a suitable requiem for Roger.” He may not have gotten to know the man too well due to serving on his father’s ship and only talking to him for a few minutes, but he knew enough. He knew that at his core Roger was a man determined to live life to its fullest. He wouldn’t want people mired in their own tears at his funeral, he’d want them savoring the time they had left.

“Hmph, this was supposed to be an ending to the dream of piracy, yet in one fell swoop we were all sucked into Roger’s dream as his final ‘fuck you’.” The fallen god mused at the changes that were shaking the foundation of the world, regardless of the marines attempts to impede it. He could appreciate such skill in disrupting the established order. Looking out the window and out onto the street, he could witness groups forming and plans being exchanged without a care. “Just look at them. They don't care Roger died. All that matters is the treasure of legendary proportions they think is waiting for them.”

His partner clearly felt the same way. “They’re utterly convinced that once the night has become but a fleeting memory fortune will favor their miserable lives. That once the sun rises, they’ll be able to find the treasure just sitting in the open somewhere on the Grand Line.”

A wide smirk grew at the all too accurate reading. “Might as well let them enjoy themselves, they’re never gonna have another chance to enjoy a dream so liberating.” Doflamingo was a sucker for a good dream. It showed more about a person than one would ever realize. The perfect tool to twist one to your whims. “Have them die thinking they had a chance.”

“Kuhahaha That’s true.” A weary smile danced over Crocodile’s lips as he considered the future. The seas were going to be much more crowded in the coming months. He’d have to make a few changes to his usual travel routes.

“We’ll all die within this illusion.” Doflamingo moved closer to his chosen partner. He figured out Roger’s plan the moment the first syllabus left his lips. He had to admit, thus far it was proving an effective one. “The boundaries between reality and dreams will become an ancient relic as Roger’s will dominates former beliefs, leading the word to ruin. Countless souls will claw at the walls and ceilings, manically trying to reach a goal that was never theirs to claim. For generations, the sheep will gossip about the Pirate King and the beacon of One Piece.”

“Try and act all high and mighty, but there’s no way your heart wasn’t touched. It’s the treasure collected by the King of the Pirates as he overcame it all, even you can’t deny being curious.” Crocodile pressed. Facing the wall as he didn’t want to see that fake smile when they were discussing something this important.

“So what?” Doflamingo questioned. He was a god trapped amongst mortals, what did he have to prove? Besides he was aiming for something far greater than simply becoming King of the Pirates.

“What you do envision the One piece as?” There were so many things it could be. But what did the brat he taught how to skin a man alive all those years ago dream the ultimate prize was. “Do you wish to for a treasure chest waiting for you? Do you wish for it to be filled with more gold and silver than most kingdoms could ever fathom?”

“The whole concept of finding some treasure in the middle of nowhere is nothing more than a waste of time.” Dexterous finger reached to touch a stray lock of black hair. Twinning the silken strands between his digits, he elaborated the futility of the dream world Roger doomed countless souls to drown in.

“There’s nothing wrong with dreaming once in a while or even devoting one’s self to achieving one’s dream. But only when you truly devote yourself to that dream, you must use every resource to seize it with your bare hands, only then will you have the chance to make it a reality.”

His hand lowered, cradling a sharp jawline. “Until then, it’s nothing more than a mere illusion one uses to distract themselves from their own failures.” And for all these fools, that’s all it will ever be.

“Hmph.” Nuzzling into the soft hand, Crocodile allowed himself to be drawn closer. Suspecting that he wouldn’t be returning to his cigar anytime soon, he dispersed it in a small breeze of sand.

“Won’t you dream of a better world with me?” Doflamingo pressed a chaste kiss across his love’s forehead. The fools could die however they wanted to. He had his treasure right here.

* * *

Two days of sexual conquest with a man who possessed the most insane libido ever conceived. It was enjoyable, no real complaints aside from the multitude of sore areas that would need days if not weeks to heal. The bed frame would definitely need replacement upon their departure and the staff would need to consider burning the mattress.

The rain had lasted until the morning of the second day after Roger’s execution. The partying had almost completely died down. One more day and the island would return to its natural state.

One more day until he returned to the Grand Line. And as tempting as it sounded, he’d rather not spend it all in bed again. “The sex is nice, but hardly a surprise. I don’t suppose you have anything more productive for us to do.” If the brat was willing, he wouldn’t mind too much sharing information about certain dangers in the Grand Line.

“Hmm.” At this Doflamingo’s smile shrank and became more genuine, losing its sharp corners altogether. “A short trip away is a navy base, running on fumes and a skeleton crew. What do you say we stop by and make ourselves at home?”

“I wouldn’t say no to an evening of screams.” Killing marines never got old. Those self-righteous bastards were often more corrupt and depraved than most pirates he ran into. And it wouldn’t hurt to get back to basics. He feared he may have started relying too much on his devil fruit powers; which would get him killed in the New World if he started thinking he was invincible due to logia nature.

“Then follow me and bring your dancing shoes.” Doflamingo quickly got dressed with a spring in his step. He was excited and why wouldn’t he? It was time for some real fun. A chance to demonstrate everything he had learned.

That night Crocodile did things, things that should never be spoken or even recalled. He followed a demon into the depts of hell. He joined in his dance until he was lost in the melody. The screams and tortured moans of their victims only served to drag him deeper into the corrupting embrace. His body acted on its darkest impulses as his common sense was chained to a post and left to starve.

He was not a good person. He’d never lie to himself and say anything like that. However, he always figured himself as a rational individual. He could not claim to have been one that night.

Through Doflamingo’s provocation, he became something else. Something that he tried to reign in since he was ten. It’s like that man knew every way to make him lose control and awaken his most twisted desires. The worst part-The worst was how much he liked it. He wanted to do it again. A part of him needed to be immersed in such evil, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t be that person if he were to fulfill his goals. He knew this. He knew it since he made the choice to stop carving up every idiot who interfered with his work and every ‘brother’ who tried to convince him to stop feeding enemies to whatever carnivorous creature he’d found. The latter was far more difficult. This had to stop.

Lying awake on the master bed, Crocodile focused on anything and everything he could in order to regain control on what had been uncaged. Pressed against his back, arms caging him from all sides, Doflamingo smiled even in his sleep. Soft lips traced a gentle kiss on his shoulder. It was as if the bastard knew of the struggle happening in his mind. As if he unlocked the vault just to feel how he would react to the onslaught of temptation. And now that he saw it once, he wanted it to happen again.

He couldn’t stay here. He had to leave before he was lost. Tomorrow, he and his crew were leaving. He didn’t care what the brat said or offered, he needed to getaway.

* * *

When he barged into the rooms he rented for his crew and stated they were leaving, they all but kissed his feet. Apparently, the flamingo’s crew had been keeping tabs on them and discouraging any attempts to contact him. The bastard was trying to isolate him. How could he have been so blind? It didn’t matter how good the sex was, he was an experienced pirate he should have been able to recognize the signs. No matter. The past was dead n’ gone and they needed to get the fuck out.

Without further ado, everyone grabbed their bags and ran out the door, gunning for their ship. He followed anticipating that their haste was bound to attract the attention of someone.

Luckily no one really cared about them. His earlier predictions were correct, and the island became a ghost town compared to three days ago. People were more concerned with cleaning up the mess and nursing hangovers then try to stop a group of strangers.

That’s not to say there were no obstacles.

In front of his ship, Doflamingo was perched on a stack of crates. He looked calm as ever, but the veins pressing against his skin gave him away. Crocodile could guess he wasn’t happy with his disappearance.

“I take it there’s nothing I can say to stop you”. Doflamingo said, not even bothering to play games. The man was pissed, but since no one was trying to strangle themselves he hadn’t jumped off the deep end just yet.

“You never could before.” Crocodile gestured for his crew to get aboard while he stepped between their path and the dangerous influence’s eyesight. A captain’s duty was to the crew after all.

“You don’t care about the throne, why waste your time chasing this fantasy?” The man’s fingers started to twitch. Crocodile couldn’t be sure if he was using his powers, trying to intimidate him, or if it was just a reflex. Either way, he had to be careful with how he handled this. Since lying would most likely end with his crew's painful death and the destruction of his ship, he was robbed of his main tools. Perhaps plain honestly would prevail and allow him and his crew to avoid losing a few appendages.

“Roger was one of the most powerful men who ever lived. He had everything a man could want. Allies and enemies alike revered and respected him. Even Whitebeard saw him as a worthy opponent and a good man. If I were to find what he claims as his greatest treasure, then maybe I’d know what I’m doing wrong.” There. That was his reason. He didn’t care about the throne, the title, any of it. He just wanted his father to see him as he truly was. To stop using that damned name and respect the man he grew into.

Unfortunately, it had the opposite effect he anticipated. Stepping down, Crocodile watched as Doflamingo’s smile became a frown. Before Crocodile could blink, he felt his body being slammed into a building. He could feel the shattered bricks pressing into his back. A large hand clasped around his neck. Curved red lenses leaned in close, mimicking eyes consumed by furry. “He isn’t worth your time. If he can’t see the miracle you are after all these years, then he doesn’t deserve to.” The enraged captain hissed into a pierced ear.

“I need to try. Besides, it sounds like an interesting voyage.” He was a pirate, first and foremost, because he wanted to be. It may have been how he was raised, but if he didn’t enjoy it then he wouldn’t have stuck with it after leaving his father’s crew.

The hand tightened around his windpipe, then became slack. The brat’s posture changed from aggressive to possessive. He drew closer to wrap around Crocodile. The dark-haired man blinked in confusion as he was pressed against muscle toned skin.

“You aren’t allowed to die.” Doflaimngo’s voice was soft and weak, as if all the fury and rage had just melted out of him. “No matter what happens you must return to me. I don’t care if you’re broken or missing a few pieces, you must come back.”

“Last I checked I don’t have to do anything. But I suppose we’ll have to cross paths again,” Crocodile reached up and snatched the googles right off Doflamingo’s forehead. “if only so I can return these worthless things.” Becoming sand, he escaped the brat’s hold. Reforming on deck, he turned to face him one last time. “See you on the Grand Line.”

Why did he do that?

He didn’t need to give the brat a reason to seek him out. He didn’t need a reason to even think of the damn brat. Yet he grabbed the fucking googles and made a claim. And a true man kept to his word. The brat really knew how to get into one’s head. If nothing else, it probably convinced him not to attack.

Who cares? The only thing that mattered now was getting to Sabaody and start charting out courses to find where Roger would have most likely hidden the One Piece. The brat wasn’t deserving of any more of his time.

He had a goal, one that could finally end with his dream becoming reality. Not to mention if he succeeded, the Golden Eye Pirates would live on in infamy as the successors of the highest honor piracy had to offer.


	3. A Broken Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alone in the world, he sought a new purpose only to be found wanting. Poor decisions lead to a wrathful choice that will forever change the course of history. Amongst the chaos, a flicker of hope gives rise to a new dawn.

When he lost his crew, a void devoured Crocodile’s heart.

He questioned why he had survived when all his crewmates perished that horrid night. Why was he allowed to carry on in this maimed stat? Why did he live?

His family was dead. His dream was dead.

Even if he pulled himself together, found a new family, he’d never reach his goal. Like countless before him and countless after, he was swallowed up by Roger’s dream world and crushed beneath the waves. He was lost between reality and the dream and he couldn’t wake up.

The worst part was that he could no longer use his own haki.

Haki was a manifestation of one’s will influencing reality, if he could no longer use it, that meant his will was broken. He had heard myths of warriors having difficulty connecting with their haki after stressful and mentally taxing battles, but nothing to such an extent. His own father broke him in such a manner that he had no idea how to fix it. In the end, he was just a man missing his left hand, with a massive scar on his face, and a pair of goggles with a cracked lens. He managed to threaten a rookie crew’s doctor into treating him not too long ago. They took his description of how shattered he was to their graves.

During his journey back to Paradise, Crocodile clung to life using everything at his disposal in order to cover his glaring weaknesses. He practically had to relearn how to sense the world as the vacancy of observation haki nearly left him blind. His lack of armament had him relying more on his logia abilities than he would have ever been comfortable in the past. Avoiding the Calm Belt was mandatory as he could no longer frighten sea kings with a look.

He tried to find a purpose, something to motivate him to carry on. Nothing worked. He slaughtered pirate, civilian, and marine alike. Honed his devil fruit to a degree once thought impossible. He regained his horde through the blood of countless fools. But nothing stirred his interest.

It was almost as if all the color had been drained from the world.

He was so tired. Each step exhausted him. The world grew dark and cold. Acts that once brought him joy now only served as a reminder of what he lost. He was almost tempted to end it all, but his pride refused such a cowardly end. Night after night he stared out onto the open water and debated on just taking one last jump. But he never made a move. His ego wanted to live, but he had no explanation why. What reason did he possibly have to go on? He wanted to live, but without a purpose, without a dream there was no point.

When Dragon approached him with an offer, he agreed purely out of boredom and desperation. And though he’d never admit it, he began to sense a twinge of hope. He’d seen the nations Dragon liberated. While some were managing, most were in the grips of utter chaos; death and destruction were rampant as the lack of order took its toll. With such madness nipping at his heels, surely he could find something worth living for.

While he had no true interest in Dragon’s propaganda or his goals, the endless work kept his mind busy. If he didn’t have anything to do, his mind started to wander to the past, to the people he’d come to cherish and rely upon. It made it all the more painful when he remembered how they died. How he was unable to save them. It just became easier to block out their names and faces.

Slowly he grew closer to the revolution’s charismatic leader. He valued his opinions and went out of his way to seek him out. He was kind, compassionate, and wanted to get to know the real man behind the scar. He even trusted him with the secrets of his childhood, information not even his top officers were privy to.

That should have been his first warning.

One day Dragon came to him with a very important question. He wanted to know if Crocodile was interested to starting a family with him. It seemed so silly and idiotic, but he’d be lying if he wasn’t intrigued. Dragon had proved intelligent and devoted. It seemed like this would be his chance to experience a proper redemption, a chance to grant another the respect and understanding he had been denied. And it would all come together by the creation of his very own child.

A family.

He could have a new one. It felt like a twisted dream he would awaken from only to still find himself alone, but he was willing to try.

Maybe-Maybe this could be something to live for.

Placing a hand over his currently flat midsection, where Ivankov claimed life was starting to grow Crocodile allowed a smile.

Brat. Whoever you grew up to be, never forget your father will never abandon you.

* * *

Crocodile hated being looked down upon, but more than anything he hated being played for a fool. Dragon would rue the day he decided to abuse his trust.

The only reason Crocodile agreed to have a child was that bastard's vow to be a better man than his father. Dragon swore to Crocodile that this child would be raised with all the compassion and respect their childhoods lacked. Perhaps he was too trusting. Perhaps his own childhood and pitiful relationship with his own father blinded him. Yet it all came undone when he overheard the last meeting.

Things were going well for the Revolutionary Army, very well. More and more nations were listening to Dragon’s message and taking up arms. It was going great, meaning it was only appropriate to have an equally fucked up consequence. Dragon was the face of the Revolution, due to being credited as its founder and lead combatant, thus painting a nation sized target on his back.

He overheard Dragon making plans to leave their child with his father in order to protect them. The moment Crocodile heard those words, something snapped.

It became so clear. The reason Dragon sought him out wasn’t due to any noble reason, but for his bloodline. The two of them carried the blood of legends, meaning that any child conceived between the two of them would have virtually limitless potential. Crocodile long suspected it was the reason, but that dork managed to push past all his insecurities and resentments. He was tricked into thinking it was a good idea. When in actuality, Dragon could have had a child with practically any woman of the Revolutionary army or simply adopted.

His once solemn vow now was worth less than the air that gave it sound. Dragon made his decision to hide the child away, keep them safe so that they could never be used against him. He would be a different form of negligent then Garp, instead of raising him in the safety of Headquarters with his fellow revolutionaries. Such betrayals would not be forgiven.

Crocodile was if nothing else a businessman. When he made a deal he stuck to it and nothing pissed him off more than a partner who wouldn’t follow through on their end when he completed his. Usually, it resulted in more than a few mummified corpses and demolished bases.

In the end, Crocodile could curse Dragon’s name for all eternity, but it wouldn’t change a thing. He was pregnant and he couldn’t risk the child’s future in order for Iva to make good on her promise. If you wanted something done right, you had to it yourself after all. Meaning that Crocodile would have to be the mature one, yet again, to ensure this child wouldn’t simply be dumped on some nameless island in the East Blue. The thrice damned fool refused to even listen to him. It was like trying to get his father to understand that even though he was born with a woman’s body he was a man. A brick would be more receptive than those idiotic disgraces.

Over the two years since he lost his family, his hand, and his hope, he did more than handle the Revolutionary Army’s paperwork. Crocodile refused to be beaten, much less by his father, but he was no fool. Even in his growing age, it would be suicide to challenge Whitebeard in a straight fight. No, Crocodile planned to play this much smarter than the first time. Even after going dark, he still had his contacts in the Underworld and quite a few favors saved up.

It was slow and frustrating as he couldn’t leave Headquarters as he recovered and needed to hide his pregnancy, but surely Crocodile was able to forge the beginning of an empire. All he needed was a place to call home and a way to defend himself from those who desired to destroy his creations.

He waited until Dragon left for a mission and stole a ship.

The route he picked would land him at Drum Island without interference from any navy patrols should he meet the winds right. Their famous collection of highly trained medical staff made it an ideal location. All he had to do was calmly sail to his destination and they would make it.

Needless to say, he hadn’t lasted a week before shit hit the fan in the most aggravating of ways. You try to avoid a man and you end up bumping into his father. Just his fucking luck!

Vice Admiral Garp. And Vice Admiral Tsuru! What were they doing together? Why are they here?

Wait! Focus. Clam down. Panicking would do no good.

Steeling his nerves, Crocodile approached the two veterans who had boarded his ill-gotten vessel. “I must admit this is a surprise.”

“Same here,” Garp stated. For once no rice crackers were in sight, so he was actually taking this meeting seriously. Will wonders never cease? “I didn’t think you’d shift from pirate to revolutionary.”

The accusation further served to harden his gaze. “Make no mistake, I am nothing of the sort.”

“Then why are you sailing a ship with that symbol?” Tsuru calmly asked pointing to the revolutionary’s symbol plastered on the side. 

“If you truly are curious, I am attempting to escape my ex.” He bluntly admitted. There was only so much he could afford to say, you never knew who was listening.

Now that got a reaction. “Excuse me.” Garp blinked, thinking he heard that wrong.

Zeroing in on Garp, Crocodile didn’t even bother to hide his disgust. “Your son proved as incompetent a father as yourself before the child even entered this world.”

Said Hero of the Navy was caught completely off guard with that one. “Eh?”

Rolling his eyes, Crocodile shifted his coat enough to reveal the unmistakable bump around his midsection.

Tsuru’s eyes widened at the sight followed by a muffled curse.

Garp’s approach was far simpler. His eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets. His throat released the whine of a dying dog and he prompted fainted, face making full contact with the floorboards.

“This is a matter best discussed in private. We can talk in my office.” Seeing that the scarred man wasn’t making any attempt to follow her, Tsuru went to the crux of the issue. “Believe what you may, I’m not so far gone that I’d consider attacking a pregnant individual or endanger the life of an infant.”

“Merely saying that put you leagues above the other assholes I’d been forced to deal with over the years.” Crocodile followed her with caution fueling his every step.

Tsuru glared off into the distance, as though imagining how the heartless bastards would look strangled to death by her own hands.

Garp was left where he fell, eyes rolled into the back of his skull and foaming at the mouth.

Walking into Tsuru’s office was a surreal experience. Never thought any of this would happen, but he wasn’t too against receiving aid from one of the few marines who had proven capable of using common sense.

“How far along are you?” Tsuru asked, pulling out a new medical folder.

“About seven months.”

“What about your last check out? Did they mention any irregularities and warning signs?” Tsuru pressured. This was serious and she’d never forgive herself if the child died due to her negligence.

“That was about a month ago and the answer was no.” Crocodile answered, then following it up with a vindictive, “although I severely doubt that bitch was qualified in the first place.”

Tsuru’s hands visibly trembled with rage as she guessed the identity of the quack doctor. “Ivankov?” That mess of a human being had no place playing doctor, much less overseeing a birth.

“The one and mercifully the only.” He wasn’t sure the world could handle so much nonsense copied into multiple bodies. Even amongst the okama culture that bitch was extreme.

Tsuru cursed as she crossed out what she had just wrote. “You are getting a checkup from a licensed physician, now.”

“I take it you just happened to be certified in such a profession.” Crocodile sarcastically shot back. He may be in one hell of a situation, but that didn’t mean he trusted a marine doctor not to just slit his throat the first chance they got. He had killed far too many not to have an army’s worth of enemies gunning for his head.

Thankfully Tsuru had decades of experience ignoring all manner of sarcasm. “You’d be right. I had to take up a lot of odd jobs in order to get to where I am today, and this is one I never regretted.” She explained as she got prepped; removing her jacket, rolling up her sleeves, and washing up. “Of course, I never thought I’d use my degree to deliver the child of a pirate, but it’ll be a nice change to help bring life into this world instead of removing it.”

The next two hours were composed of Tsuru running a battery of tests. She regularly asked questions concerning Crocodile’s health, eating habits, and temperament. An issue she was particularly concerned with was the dangers of nicotine withdrawal. When she had last seen him on Whitebeard’s crew the lad smoked like a chimney. It couldn’t have been easy to suddenly quit and there was the danger that the chemical imbalance could have an adverse reaction to the baby.

Thankfully she didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary. She’d only had minimal experience handling children and births due to her main occupation. But she did aid in delivery and observation when she was stationed in the Emergency Response Team and Navy Recovery Brigade. Either way, not as much experience as she would have liked, but far more than nothing. Which is ten times more than that quack received.

“Okay, everything seems to be in order. The child may end up being a tad small, but so far nothing appears to be life threatening.” Tsuru said, looking over the results very pleased with the readouts. “Based on these readings you will be due in roughly five weeks, maybe less depending on how things go.”

Putting all the forms away, Tsuru gave her hands one final wash and returned to the table. Crocodile had already dressed himself, no doubt eager to put as much distance between his child and questionable individuals as possible. She could respect such parental instincts, but they still had work to do.

“The question remains, what are you planning to do?” Tsuru asked completely serious.

“I have a child and I plan to raise it properly.” Crocodile growled, just daring anyone to take this opportunity away from him. Dragon had nearly robbed him once, he wasn’t going to risk it again.

The heavy stomping of rushing feet slapping floorboards drawing closer halted further questions or affronted statements. Garp threw open the door, staring at the two with a wild expression. “I’m going to be a grandpa?!”

Crocodile didn’t so much as glance in his direction, leaving Tsuru to break the news. “It appears so.”

The man waited just to be sure this wasn’t some cruel trick. A massive grin of pure delight stretched across his face. “I’M GOING TO BE A GRANDPA!”

With that, the man started running around the battleship like a child on a sugar rush. Popping up anywhere he pleased and scaring the life out of his subordinates as he announced the news full blast into their eardrums. “Yeah! I’m gonna have grandkids! Wahoo!”

Crocodile’s left eye began twitching as the old fool made a spectacle out of himself. He was now part of this fucked up family. What was he thinking? How drunk was he when he agreed to madness? “How long is he going to be like this?”

“Until you give birth, I’m afraid.” Tsuru commented, looking more than a tad amused.

“And not a drop of liquor to get me through this.” Bitch didn’t even have the decency to attempt to hide her smile.

* * *

Giving birth was a fucking nightmare!

The cramps, the pain, the constant will needed to resist his body’s desire to transform to avoid a perceived attack. He could have simply told them water would prevent his transformation, but in the end he wasn’t near naïve enough to blindly trust the people that had hunted him throughout his childhood. Then there was his pride snarling at the thought of revealing his greatest weakness. The medication helped, but it had been going on for nearly six agonizing hours! This little shit better be worth it.

After his medical checkup with Tsuru, Crocodile brought up the possibility of him simply transforming when the time came to give birth in order to avoid the hassle. Unfortunately, the elderly woman quickly shot down that plan. It wouldn’t be the first time a pregnant logia user brought up that possibility or even tried to use their devil fruits powers to avoid the precious yet miserable process. Which brought up the question of exactly how many logia users had gotten pregnant in order to warrant that expression.

She explained that there simply was too high a risk to the baby. There’s no telling how they would react to the sudden change or if the child would partially be affected by the transformation. Given the nature of the element, there was high chance the baby would suffocate. Government scientists, including Vegapunk, and medical doctors have debated and studied the question, but due to ethical reasons, no actual tests were conducted. Rumor has it that Vegapunk nearly broke Cesar Clown’s spine when he claimed to have found a few ‘volunteers’.

Basically, the answer was no.

Crocodile was forced to stay human. His instincts as a logia cried out to him to give in to his body’s desires and transform. He had stayed in the singular man of a man for nearly nine months and it was torture. He wasn’t a normal human anymore, as soon as he tasted that fruit he was an embodiment of sand. He needed to stretch and scatter and dissipate, but he couldn’t due to the freakin’ baby. The pain driving him to crush the armrest to scrap with his right hand. The stump his left had been reduced to was stripped of his hook, out of fear he’d attack anyone close by to distract himself. They weren’t exactly wrong, but he hated seeing his wound. He hated being reminded of the incident.

He hated remembering how he was too weak to save them.

Clocking in at nearly eight hours the room was greeted to the sound of the child’s first cry. A relieved sigh echoed through the hall as it was finally over. Using her powers, Tsuru washed the child in a gentle stream and wrapped him in a fluffy towel.

“Congratulations. It’s a boy.” A cursory glance revealed nothing was out of place and the healthy crying satisfied her with proving the child was breathing properly. In fact, it proved the child had quite a set of lungs. Smiling, Tsuru held the child close, basking in the satisfaction of bringing a new life into the world. She’d never get too old for this. 

Crocodile was surprised when Tsuru gently placed the child in his arms. He was half-convinced they would have shipped him off to Impel Down the moment the child was born. Guess the world still had small miracles.

Getting a good look at the creature who had caused him so much pain and heartache, Crocodile saw the makings of a happy child. The cries had turned to bubbling laughter, dark eyes taking in everything this new world had to offer. There was no fear, he’d yet to learn.

What else could he say but, “Welcome to the world, brat.”

“Would you mind allowing Garp to say hello?” Tsuru pointed to the door, where a single eye could be seen locked onto the infant.

Crocodile was actually surprised that the man had managed to stay out this long and was still resisting the urge to barge in. What really got to him was the disbelief in the man’s eyes, as though he’d never imagined this day would become a reality. Due to Dragon running away and starting the Revolutionary Army and his general disdain towards his father, that fear did have validation.

Sighing, he nodded.

Walking in the man, who was willing to fight the fearsome Rocks Pirates with his bare hands, almost looked scared. “Really?”

Barely refraining from rolling his eyes, Crocodile lifted his arm, inviting the old marine to hold his grandchild for the first time.

Gently taking the tiny bundle, Garp started to cry. He took in the pudgy cheeks, the button nose, the toothless smile. He feared he would never witness such a sight again. “Hello. I’m your grandpa. Welcome to the family, Luffy.”

Tsuru smacked the man upside the head on instinct. “You can’t name the baby.” But even she couldn’t stop smiling. The man was such a dork and this was a precious moment.

“Let him. I hadn’t thought of anything.” Crocodile stated, ignoring how Garp nearly glowed with excitement. Instead, he chose to focus on how he soon would be able to enjoy the sweet rush of nicotine and the bitter smoothness of a fine aged whiskey. “He can’t take my name.” There was too much baggage attached to the Roulette name. Maybe one day he’d have the strength to wear it with the pride it deserves, but not now.

“Does that mean? Garp asked stars danced in his eyes.

“He can take yours.” Judging by Garp’s victory dance he was going to regret that in the future.

“So what now?” Crocodile didn’t really have any plans for the near future aside from recovery and he doubted Garp would settle for saying goodbye. The way the man was holding his grandson gave the impression they’d need a crowbar to separate the two.

“We’re heading towards an island in the East Blue. A little piece of nowhere that should allow you to regain your strength without fear of revolutionaries or Emperors making surprising visits. Few pirates dare to approach account of it being my hometown. The ones that do can be taken out by children.” Garp explained, sounding particularly proud of how safe his home island was due to his reputation.

By all rights, it sounded like the ideal place to raise a child. Although knowing that multiple D’s were going to be present there was a case that is was only a matter of waiting before something went horribly wrong.

Eh, fuck it. They were D’s. Something was always bound to go wrong, just stepping somewhere could drag them into an insane situation, might as well be prepared for it.

“Now that that’s out of the way, I have important business to conduct.” Straightening his clothes, Garp left far more composed than when he entered.

“He took the baby.” Crocodile noted, still far too exhausted to even think about leaving the bed.

“Wait for it.” Tsuru sat down and grabbed a bottle of scotch under the desk.

“This is my grandson!” A happy and boisterous voice rang through the halls.

“Sir, please calm down.” A marine pleaded, more than a little scared.

“Never! Bwahahahaha.” He cried, followed by the sound of the infant’s cheerful babbling.

Rolling his eyes, Crocodile sank into the pillows beneath him. “Let be a lesson to never get involved with a dork’s family.”

“Amen.” Tsuru took a well-practiced swig straight from the bottle.


	4. Building an Empire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All things start small, but given time they can be capable of incredible feats. The creation of Baroque Works, the recruitment of a few top agents, and the start of a dangerous partnership.

Nearly a year had passed since Luffy had entered the world and it was time Crocodile got to work. He had been staying on Dawn Island, raising Luffy, and going over various mountains of paperwork.

A single choice would decide how this child would be raised. One he had to make if he intended to move on with his life while keeping his word. A potential solution was right before him, no matter how much his pride as a pirate chafed at the idea of any sort of collar. It all came to a question of how much more he valued his freedom over the chance to raise a squirming brat, who did nothing but cry, shit, and waste his time.

He truly didn’t have a choice, did he?

He needed to become a Warlord. It was his only chance to raise Luffy in a semi-stable environment. Now that Garp had him on his radar there was no way the man would allow him to be shut out of his grandson’s life. As a bonus, being a Warlord would allow him to remain a pirate without the fear of marines constantly tracking his movements and putting his new family in jeopardy. He couldn’t imagine taking up a peaceful life after everything he’d seen and there was the fact far too many marines were still hunting him down for his time as Captain of the Golden Eye Pirates. Seriously you’d think they’d learn when to stop.

So what if he and his crew flipped your battleship, slaughtered your superior officer, and burned your home town to the ground? Either get started planning your revenge like the rest of them or drop it already. Sheesh, I mean who called a blind charge a revenge plan anyway. More like a suicide run. Bunch of fools.

But in order to qualify for the selection process, he needed to build up his reputation as one of the deadliest pirates in the seas. While there were those who respected his past accomplishments and knew he was far from helpless, there were others who thought he had gone soft due to his loss against Whitebeard. If his plan worked not only would his reputation reach new heights, but his presence in the Underworld would swell immensely.

The foundation he built for Baroque Works was solid, but no organization was complete without employees. He was already amassing a small following of small-time mercenaries, but even when you took their numbers into account, they were not the most impressive fighting force. If this most to be how he reclaimed his place in the world as a true player, he’d need an elite fighting force loyal to only him. People whose skills and powers would erase any doubt of the organization’s competence.

He spent months scouting impressive specimens and rumors of dangerous devil fruit users. He had a list of individuals with special talents he wanted in his organization. The fruits of his labors, if approached the proper way would regain any respect he had lost in the Underworld.

Freaks. Outcasts. Monsters. Dreamers.

Each was someone who was lacking something in their lives and his organization could give it to them. All that needed to be done was to corner them and make them see that working under him was their best chance at success.

* * *

His prized target was an infamous bounty hunter and assassin from the West Blue. Daz Bonez. A man who ate the Dice-Dice Fruit and a prodigy of martial arts.

Finding him wasn’t an issue, nor was getting him to listen. Baroque Works would function as an easy way to ensure he’d never run out of prey and would be facing a higher grade of opponents than he’d ever find in the West Blue. Basically, it was the perfect way to alleviate the boredom that had been drawing near.

No, the only hassle was convincing him to think it over in an area free of interference. In the end, he agreed to join, if Crocodile could beat him in combat.

From there on, Crocodile proceeded to beat the lesson of dominance into Daz’s skull. His body became an artwork depicting the difference in their strengths. The full-bodied blade human was reduced to a husk staring at the victor with wide eyes.

That was the folly of all devil fruit users who got cocky. They envisioned themselves invincible before they’d even done anything truly worth mentioning. That was Daz’s weakness. That defeat shattered his world view. He had lived so many years as an apex predator, only to see just how weak he really was. All that was left was a skilled killer lacking direction and Crocodile was all too happy to provide his guidance.

* * *

Zala, or Paula, had been working as a marine ensign due to a lack of job opportunities and training. She once was on her way to a promotion to captain, but her superiors deemed her vicious nature too much of a liability. They couldn’t risk someone so bloodthirsty commanding dozens if not hundreds of soldiers to their deaths, just to satisfy her perverse desires.

From a logical standpoint, it made perfect sense. Soldiers were a finite resource and good captains knew how to keep as many of their men alive as possible. From a financial standpoint, it was the smartest choice. Training soldiers were very expensive: food, water, shelter, clothing, all of it cost money, money they intended to get back through years of dependable service. It was the best choice, but it didn’t take into account how hard she worked to get stronger. The time she devoted to reaching her limits and surpassing them. That rejection hurt her and left her floundering in obscurity. Truly a waste of her talents.

When Crocodile offered her a place in his organization, where she’d be free to be as monstrous as she liked, she all but burned her uniform in glee. Her first assignment was to kill every marine stationed there.

She didn’t even hesitate to use the Spike-Spike Fruit to slaughter her long-time comrades and allies. Her deranged laughter was lovely music as Crocodile sat back and enjoyed the show.

Oh yes, she’d go far with him.

* * *

Bentham found him purely by accident.

After leaving Newkama Island he decided to find a way to share his teachings while making lifelong bonds. Sadly, he was met with disappointment from the start.

Bentham himself wasn’t too bad, but unfortunately due to the okama culture, he was seen as more of a joke and a danger than someone who’d die for their comrade. Then there was how excitable he was, which tended to grate on people’s nerves. He was comfortable with who he was and that tended to make others uncomfortable. He went from being surrounded by like-minded friends and loved ones to being shunned and utterly alone.

Bentham had been searching for him purely out of desperation. Word had gone out about his organization, despite his efforts. People talked about how he accepted anyone, regardless of appearance gender or beliefs, so long as they could complete their jobs.

As much as the okama reminded him of that irritating queen, he wasn’t one to throw away useful tools. His flamboyant nature was the perfect distraction, his opponents would unintentionally lower their guards in the face of such a strange person. The fact he had eaten the Copy-Copy fruit was a lovely bonus.

Although he began to have second thoughts the moment, the overly dramatic fool found out that he was a transgender male. He broke into tears and poetry about the hardships of those born into the wrong bodies. If nothing else, it functioned as solid evidence that he wanted to create a paradise.

* * *

The unluckies were a rather fortunate discovery, one that was brought about purely by chance.

Even with his time sailing the Grand Line, he’d never seen anything like them. He never imagined an otter and vulture could be proficient assassins without extensive training, access to a devil fruit, or being a mink. Yet these two proved him wrong.

From what Mr. 13 drew they had been exiled from their raft and flock for their blood thirsty nature. Despite being animals the two were proud sadists. Sadly, their families weren’t able to understand that. Didn’t help their cause when they admitted to killing several of their own species out of boredom.

They were quite sharp and willing to adapt in order to survive. They had taught themselves how to wield weapons simply by observing the actions of different humans over the years. As their skills progressed so did the creativity in their kills. Before they met the two spent their days sailing and swimming in search of new challenges and a fresh food source.

Crocodile wasted no time recruiting them with a basic sales pitch. His organization was filled with killers and monsters, they would fit right in. They were lonely and eager to find solace in companionship, so they wasted no time signing their contract.

* * *

Loan Shark Galdino was an insufferable moron that made him want to suck all traces of moisture from his wretched body until his lungs collapsed and his bones were ground to dust, but the man was competent. In a way…

He possessed some intelligence and skill in forming long term plans. He was creative in using his Wax-Wax Fruit, putting him ahead of many idiots sailing the blues. Numbers were his specialty, due to years of working as a tax collector for the World Government. Working for them landed him a cushy job, decent pay, and the rush of seeing countless civilians freeze in your presence. He was good at numbers, including zeroing in on those who had skimped out, allowing him to manage the books for entire dozens of islands at once. He could have stayed there forever, or at least he could have if he could keep his ego in check.

The man had a rather annoying tendency to overestimate his worth. Most people would think getting caught stealing from heavenly tribute would be the ultimate death sentence; for Galdino, not only did he think, due to his work, that he could get away with it, he could keep the money. The moron had been on the run for years.

The man latched onto him from sheer desperation once he offered his protection in exchange for his services. While he had wondered by Dagon hadn’t recruited someone of his caliber after he proved crazy enough to steal from the Celestial Dragons, he soon learned the why. The man had a natural gift for getting on his last nerve. Then there was the fact he was a complete coward, the second he fought someone stronger than him and that bravado was replaced by a blubbering mess. With any luck, the man would be used as a human shield during a riot and that will be all.

* * *

He didn’t so much as seek out Catcher-Killing Babe as stumbled upon him during one of his accidents.

The brute was born with far more strength than he knew how to handle. The man had tried to go the straight and narrow only to meet with failure after soul-crushing failure. He had some form of learning disability, which made it very difficult for him to understand new information and techniques. It wasn’t that he was incapable of learning, its just that he was a bit slow and needed a tender hand to help him through it all.

Since he was raised as a thief and a bounty hunter from a young age, that’s essentially all he knew how to perform. He couldn’t even make it through the marine’s boot camp. He wouldn’t say how, but judging by how worked up he got, it must have been something serious. He was effectively blacklisted from joining the marines and had a string of failures trying to hold down a simple job.

The accident that would change his life was him getting fired from his thirty-first job in one month. He had managed to score a gig at a local construction company after the owner heard of his troubles. He offered Babe a job working as a lifter, really simple, just moving steel beams and planks of wood from one spot to another. At first, everything went smoothly, then the orders started piling up as the builders got into a groove. Before the day was done, the construction site was a crater and Babe was fired yet again.

Crocodile didn’t waste any time convincing him to return to the life of a bounty hunter. He had a positive experience and had proven to be competent. Despite swearing to live a life on the straight and narrow, Babe gave in without much of a fight. He was a broken man. Crushed by his own strength and the weight of failure.

* * *

It took some work, but Crocodile had found information on her, but he wasn’t impressed. Town-Collapser Drophy started her life as a little girl who dreamed of becoming a princess. When it became obvious that her dream was hopeless due to lacking the required bloodlines, she switched to a life of piracy. She was determined to become a princess of pirates, someone others would look up to and view as a delicate and beautiful soul.

Needless to say, that goal didn’t survive long in the real world. She didn’t even last long enough to warrant a bounty or even a mention from when she sailed with six different crews.

Much like himself, she had grown weary of this world of dreams. Loss had taken its toll and all that was left was a bitter woman. In order to carry on, she started taking her frustrations out on other, more successful pirates. Which led her to even more failure.

Frustrated she turned to her devil fruit's powers and started digging underneath towns in various islands out of sheer desperation. The massive displacement of earth led to the entire town falling into handcrafted sinkholes. She had finally gained a reputation as a pirate, not a big one by any stretch, but it was a start. The problem was that she didn’t know what to do after she had gotten her fame. Her plans always had her surrounded by a crew who would fight by her side.

Her running led her to him and to a crew who would fight together. He gave her one chance to prove she had the means to thrive in this insane world. If she truly wanted to make something of herself, she couldn’t keep phoning it in. She had to apply herself to every job, just like those sinkholes she made scattered across the West Blue.

* * *

It was all coming together. Now that he had stronger agents leading assignments and bringing in more bodies. New individuals would seek them out in search of employment and comradery. It would take time to reach the level of influence he was comfortable with, but he was a patient man.

After all he was a new father, he couldn’t vanish for years at a time anymore. Not yet at least. For now, all he would focus on building up his forces. The recruits he had would be drilled until they could handle the pompous rookies trickling in from the Four Blues. Those he personally drafted to act as his elite would be put through the same trials and if they failed.

This organization would have the top officers based on merit. Power alone was worthless, only those who both had it and knew how to wield it deserved to stand alongside him. Just because one had a devil fruit did not mean they were invincible or irreplaceable.

If he was to succeed, both as a father and a major Underworld name, he needed to create a base of operations. Somewhere remote enough the Navy wouldn’t go poking their nose, but close enough to society to act as a cover in case something went wrong. There was also the need so Luffy had a chance to grow up with other children nearby. As the only child on Whitebeard’s ship he often sought comfort in his studies, or flagrant murder, out of sheer boredom. His ‘brothers’ constantly told him off about it, much to his confusion as a child. They killed marines every other day, why was it so strange when he did it? But that was him, he had no idea what kind of man Luffy would grow into.

Then there was the matter of security.

One couldn’t afford to be too prepared, especially with certain devil fruits out there. The last thing he needed was for his empire to be the target of a buster call. What he needed as a trump card. Something that the World Government refused to cross. Something on the level of mythical weaponry and more controllable than the Navy's Dyna Stones.

He heard some pretty interesting rumors during his time with the revolutionaries. Supposedly in Paradise, an ancient weapon of unlimited power rested. A few favors later and he noticed an unusual amount of CP agents regularly spotted meddling in the affairs of Alabasta. They could be simply trying to influence the kingdom from the shadows, but certain patrols and investigations didn’t add up. Museums ransacked. Ruins vandalized. Tombs desecrated. Places that no rookie would be interested in. From his experience they were more interested in easy money, not something that required brainpower. Someone was looking for something, something worth enraging a well-respected royal family. It sounded too good to be true, a weapon that could shake the world in hidden under an island of sand and drought.

It may have been a long shot or not possible at all, but it was a place to start. Alabasta was located in the first half of Paradise, a constant target of rookie pirate attacks. What made it so hard to protect, despite the constant presence of the Navy, was that it was nearly three times the size of any other naturally formed island in the area. Reports indicated that the royal army was stretched to the breaking point and the Navy blockage was pathetic in its attempts to stop the dangerous adversaries. Despite its name, it was more of a series of checkpoints than a continuous wall, almost as if they truly didn’t care what happened to the kingdom.

What this country needed was a hero. Someone who could protect them in their hour of need and remove all those pesky pirates. And he just happened to have a particular skill set that took full advantage of the desolate landscape. And wouldn’t you know it, his true name was that of a sacred animal directly worshiped as the emissaries of one of their gods. Perhaps fortune was finally favoring him.

Candlelight illuminated a nasty grin.

* * *

The presence of dangerous pirates was an unfortunately common threat to the citizens of Alabasta despite the combined efforts of the Navy and royal family. For generations, the Nefertari family has struggled to protect its citizens while maintaining a thriving kingdom. As the only family of the original twenty to stay in the mortal realm, they had an immense responsibility to prove that the Celestial Dragons could be kind rulers. But lately, the ruling monarch feared he was failing in his duty.

King Cobra loved his country and his people. He only wanted the best for them, but with all the attacks he had been forced to make tough decisions. The constant raids had impacted the nations food and water supplies. Normally it wouldn’t be too bad, but the annual rains were late, and it was becoming more and more difficult to locate new underground rivers to replenish their reservoirs. He was forced to raise the national tax percentage in order to cover their losses and pay for additional imports in order to make sure his people were well fed.

It was a difficult job being the king of a nation of over ten million and the burdens seemed to be growing still. Alabasta was a nation that prided itself on a rich culture and a divine pantheon of illustrious gods. Many of their deities shared forms and similarities with animals found throughout the nation. From the majestic cats who protected their grains and storage to the humble scarab that rose and slept with the glorious cycle of the sun.

There was one predator all knew to fear and respect. The vicious crocodile who made its home in the life-giving rivers and oasis throughout the island. They were powerful, able to drag a fully grown man, his herd, and his entire family to their deaths. So long as their territories weren’t encroached upon, they were willing to let citizens near watering holes live out their daily lives, most of the time.

When an infamous pirate bearing such a name started making regular appearances in each of Alabasta’s major towns, many were concerned. He was known for sailing through Paradise on multiple occasions and had spent time in the New World, any pirate who could boast that was not one to be taken lightly. 

He had a squad of royal guards watch him, ready to step in should he make the slightest mistake and to report his activities. The reports that came in were…odd. He partook of the local cuisine, was extremely generous with tipping, and had an eye for the various temples and art exhibits dotted throughout the nation. But the strangest part was his reactions to his fellow pirates.

When a rookie team arrived at a city Crocodile was visiting, he approached them, ignoring the militia force that had responded to the immediate threat. He greeted them in an unusual way, it was clearly a formal greeting yet not one his scouts had ever witnessed. The captain demanded Crocodile step aside or surrender and many noted that the air suddenly became very dry. With a single hand, Crocodile proceeded to butcher the young pirate crew, their corpses turned into withered husks then into pure sand.

No one knew how to react, so the superior officer offered a shaky thanks for his aid and let the dangerous man carry on. The first time Cobra didn’t know what to make of it. Then it happened again. And again. And again. Until it seemed every time a pirate crew threatened the people of Alabasta, Crocodile would emerge from the desert and greet them.

After nearly two years of steadfast diligence protecting the people of the sandy nation, Cobra had to do something. The strange pirate was a mystery, one he needed to sort out. What’s more, his people were taking Crocodile’s actions in a strange light. They were far more receptive to his presence than they should. They liked him.

The people dubbed him the Hero of Alabasta.

Don’t get him wrong, Cobra was extremely grateful for his aid, but he wanted to know why.

The royal palace of the Kingdom of Alabasta had existed since before the Void Era and witnessed many guests walk down its halls. All sorts, from royalty, Navy officers, and commoner alike have walked these hallowed halls. But never before has a visitor such as this one dared to enter, much less be invited.

The main deliberation hall had been converted into a more comforting setting, featuring a long table and a plethora of fine dining. The highest-ranked figures of authority sat across from each other, their chairs angled to face directly at the opposing head, where it currently sat empty.

The confident clicking of heels alerted everyone to their approaching guest. Each step punctuated by a loud click. Guards braced themselves against their growing fear. The doors opened on their own, giving way to the strangest pirate Cobra had ever seen.

He towered over the tallest men in the kingdom. Cobra always envisioned himself as a decently sized man, but at this moment, he felt like an insect. His body gave off the seductive curves of a woman, yet his aura was a deadly blade that threatened to slice should any be dumb enough to mention it.

His clothes spoke of finery and wealth; his fur coat alone could pay for a large family’s daily feast over the course of one month with extra. His upbringing as the future king granted Cobra instinctual knowledge the gems worn on his remaining hand were real and of the highest quality. His face was frozen into an expression of perpetual boredom. The most he gave the room of highly trained soldiers and nobility was a cursory glance as though they were worth less than the sand beneath his soles.

“Pirate Captain Crocodile, thank you for accepting my invitation.” Cobra stood to greet his guest; it wouldn’t grant him anything to be indecorous.

Crocodile nodded in his direction, taking the empty seat at the end of the table. “It was in my best interest; besides it has grown quite tiresome constantly feeling your men’s eyes glaring a hole through my spine.”

So he knew he was being watched. “My deepest apologies. You are an unknown force in my kingdom. I couldn’t simply let a man as powerful as you walk freely without some protective measure.” It was pointless to deny it, even lethal depending on the circumstances.

“You have made quite a reputation for yourself. The citizens are quite fond of you.”

“Merely the result of keeping to my principles and the constant flow of money.” Crocodile explained. Not that he’d admit all the careful preparations and foresight that went into each interaction.

“I’ve heard quite a bit about your past and I must say I am curious as to why a man such as yourself would change careers.” Cobra inquired, trying to appear as harmless as possible. “You clearly enjoy piracy and from navy reports you’re good at it. A single loss couldn’t have brought you to my kingdom so easily.”

A piercing glare struck his heart, Cobra was filled with the strangest vision of what his body would look like without a head surrounded by the gutted remains of his court. The feeling passed as Crocodile helped himself to the cup of tea that had been poured seconds before his arrival. “I have grown weary of constantly looking out for Navy patrols and am seeking a more permanent state of residence.”

The kingdom’s treasurer deeply swallowed at the implications. “And you wish to live here?”

“Is that so hard to believe?” As the shadows crested over his nose, his scar twisted into a hungry smile. “In my youth, I was quite taken with your country and it is clear you have quite a problem.”

“The pirate attacks have always been a source of turmoil, but if you’ll forgive me. Why are you killing them? Are you not all pirates?” Chaka asked, trying to understand the man’s reasoning.

Crocodile gained a look similar to an instructor dealing with a particularly irritating disciple. “There is a great difference between pirates and common bandits. Those idiots I killed were nothing more than ship-based bandits. True piracy follows a strict code of honor and principles. Unfortunately, since Roger’s death, the seas are filled with young fools parading under a title they have no right to use. They don’t even know how to exchange a proper greeting. Such stupidity deserved an appropriate punishment.”

Well, that explained his habit of greeting his opponents before killing them. “While we are grateful to your actions, the Navy won’t stop hunting you just because you protected us.” Ho, the royal doctor, noted.

“You needn’t worry about that.” The concerns were absentmindedly waved off. “I’m in the running to become a Warlord, thus ensuring my safety.” A new cup of tea was poured into an empty cup. If the servant’s hands shook no one commented on it. “But do not think a protection detail is all I offer your kingdom. I’m interested in creating a business here, one that I believe could prove very profitable to your entire nation.”

“A…business? Such as?” it was difficult to believe. A remorseless pirate settling down and getting a government approved job.

“A casino. I believe Rainbase would be a suitable location.” A legal way for people to indulge in the thrill of risk without risking their lives (mostly). “And having a Warlord as the head would increase tourism to the area which would spread to the other cities. As a citizen, naturally I’d be transferring ten percent of my profits to the kingdom of Alabasta.”

“You think we’ll accept dirty money from a pirate?” Pell spat out more of a threat than a question. His hands itched for his swords.

Pale eyes roved over to the temperamental guard. “Such a prideful man you have in your employ, Cobra. I wonder how you plan to use that to tend to your people. They have grown quite cross with the growing taxes and lack of solutions.” Walking through the streets proved quite useful in gathering information, especially when gossip rings started over the most innocent topics. “If my business could aid in the recovery of your kingdom, wouldn’t it be best to put aside our differences?”

Pell flinched in sheer horror. He couldn’t even stomach the thought of harming his nation. To even conceive of the slightest notion that he may unintentionally be the cause of his people pain was despicable.

Cobra didn’t visually react thanks to decades of working with fellow royalty and nobles, but that…that hurt. Pell was one of his best men and like him cared for his people. He was extremely patriotic and had volunteered specifically to keep watch on Crocodile. The man was one of his finest warriors for a reason, but he did have a tendency to view outsiders with a hostile edge. It wasn’t that he was wrong to be suspicious; it’s just that there was a time and a place for such outbursts.

“That is a generous if somewhat…bold offer.” Cobra briefly struggled to find a word that wouldn’t offend the man. To claim a single business could change the economy of an entire nation was more than a little foolish. Even if the ten percent was nearly twice what the average business paid to the capital.

“Think it over.” Crocodile didn’t appear concerned with the challenges ahead. No, he felt like a man who had already conquered them and was gunning for his next challenge. “I am willing to sign a contract stating that not only will my business help increase tourism, but will be critical in reducing the national tax rate.”

“That won’t be necessary.” Cobra was quick to shoot down that plan. While having a written contract outlining all the boundaries and clauses felt like the most practical and reasonable action, it truly wasn’t. The last thing he needed was for documented evidence to exist detailing his cooperation with a pirate. Not only would it bring shame to his country and his family, it would illuminate just how bad their situation was. Should they wish to push it, the greedier members of royalty could use it as proof the Nefertari family was growing weaker. That they weren’t liable to run Alabasta on their own anymore.

“I insist.” For a splint second stoic lips quirked into a terrifying grin before returning to their original position. “Send for me when you make your decision.” He rose, savoring the growing uneasy with every inch.

He slowly walked towards the doors. He didn’t need eyes in the back of his head to feel the growing fear from the nobles. He could practically taste the anxiety of the guards as they clenched their weapons for a sense of familiarity. Oh, yes. He was going to enjoy himself here.

“I may be a tad late, but congratulations your highness. You have a beautiful daughter.” With that, the royal court bore witness as the man became a localized sandstorm and vanished.

Cobra was the only one who had not been entranced by the casual display of power. No, fear and terror of a different sort had claimed his mind long ago.

Only his personal circle and the local nobility knew that Titi had given birth to a beautiful baby girl. It was tradition for no member of royalty or nobility to announce a birth until the child had reached a minimum of two years of life. It was a tradition that started during a difficult time, when infants died far too easily and disease ran rampant.

After infant death dramatically decreased due to the advancement of medicine, they kept the tradition, out of respect for their ancestors’ hardships and just in case something went wrong. Cobra thought he had been careful. He and Titi had it all planned out. He trusted his advisors and close friends with his life, so how did it get out?

How did he know about Vivi?


	5. Joys of Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No one ever said raising a family was easy, but sometimes you really just want to throw a brat out a window. Doesn't help when the grandfather is an idiot. But sometimes you find a way to make the insanity work for you.

Luffy was definitely a strange child.

His constant optimism and adventurous spirit were exhausting. Crocodile never dreamed that a child of his could be so happy. Yet there he was. Nothing seemed to get him down and if it did it never lasted. He was bluntly honest in the worst possible ways, asking the most inappropriate questions at random times. No matter how many times he tried to correct such behavior it never stuck.

He was forever grateful to Makino for being the nurturing older sister/motherly one in their relationship. The girl was little more than a teenager blossoming into a young woman, yet she was already proving herself more sensible than the entire village could ever hope to match. Hell, she had more common sense than most adults he'd had the displeasure of meeting.

Already she decided that she would become the town's bartender and wouldn’t discriminate against pirates. He didn’t even need to warn her about that. Instinctually she knew that bartenders who tried to deny or shortchange pirates didn’t tend to stick around long. It would also grant her the freedom to choose her own hours and stay in a hotbed of constant information.

She was clever and had a knack for finding simple solutions to supposedly complex dilemmas. It was how she was able to instill Luffy with a minor form of restraint. He long suspected that if it wasn’t for her, Luffy would greet everyone with a running tackle. Damn that worthless Garp to hell. He honestly wondered who raised such a mess of a man or if was all natural.

Truthfully Crocodile was grateful for only visiting a few months out of the year. He was certain he’d snap if he was forced to watch over Luffy constantly. There was a small piece of him that enjoyed his impossible happiness. He took it as proof Luffy wasn’t going to suffer within his own mind like he had.

But the child was obviously lonely. Every time he visited, the boy clung to his chest in his sleep as though he were to vanish in the night. Dawn Island was safe, especially compared to the constant attacks that littered the Grand Line and the other blues, but there weren’t any children around for him to play with. Anyone close to his age was either busy with chores, a job, found Luffy too weird, or were too intimidated by Crocodile to befriend him. Despite protecting the town from the occasional bandit attack, the people were rightfully scared of him.

He was a dangerous man and wouldn't lose a wink of sleep if he decided to one day kill them all.

Garp and Tsuru’s visits helped, but due to their own duties they weren’t able to stay for long periods. Then there were the hints Luffy was growing terrified of Garp. He didn’t know what the old government dog was doing, but Luffy was being negatively affected. On his last visit, Luffy was eager to learn how to swim, now he wanted nothing to do with it. The only possible force that could truly influence Luffy was his moronic grandfather, leaving Crocodile few suspects on who to blame.

What that boy needed was a more solid form of family. He needed a support system that would provide him an educational and emotionally healthy environment. He was trying to speed things up. He wanted to bring Luffy to Alabasta, where he’d be able to watch over him like a proper father. Rain Dinners was nearing completion, including the underground passages. The rooms for the first three floors were completely booked once they opened and the lineup of guests he arranged would line the King’s pockets with an easy million.

Everything was coming together so fast. He was trying to keep his word, truly he was. But so many tasks needed to be completed and the Navy was being particularly stubborn. He’d killed and brought in over one thousand pirates, yet his bounty hadn’t budged.

He was still at eighty-one million beris! He should be worth at least double that! His plan hinged on becoming a Warlord and acquiring the protection that accompanied the title. If he couldn’t get it, then all this time protecting Luffy would have been for nothing. And he hated wasting time and energy.

Someone was getting in his way and he intended to find out who.

* * *

For his first six years of life, Ace lived under the belief that his father was a monster and that any who discovered the truth would ruthlessly kill him. He kept to the mountains under the distant watch of bandits who only agreed to raise a child under the threat of Garp. They weren’t exactly bad people, merely choose this life through a combination of lack of options and a string of bad choices. Okay, there were a few who enjoyed this life and wouldn't give it up of One Piece itself. What were ya gonna do? At least they were honest with themselves. Although that didn’t exactly qualify them to raise a child, it could be argued they were way better than Garp. Those so called ‘training sessions’ left him sore for weeks.

All in hopes of him joining the Marines. Ace never saw the point; he didn’t have much faith in humanity after everything he'd experienced. When he spied on the nearby towns or the docking marines, he heard things. He heard about the monster his father was. How people celebrated his death for days. When the subject of a potential heir arose, he always heard the same thing. That any child of Roger should be killed on site. That they had no right to live. How the Navy was willing to slaughter hundreds of newborns and expecting mothers in order to prevent the rise of a second Roger.

He once asked Garp if he should be alive. The old man took on a troubled expression, looked away, and told him that he’d have to find out for himself. A piece of him died that day. For all their disagreements and fights, Ace thought the old man cared about him, if only a little, but now- he…he didn’t know.

That changed when he attempted a mug a wealthy looking man who was wandering alone on a distant trail. He’d never seen the man before and thought he’d make an easy score. He took a position and lunged at him, ready to frisk him of everything he had. To his shock, he found himself hanging literally from a golden hook as the stranger stared down at him unimpressed.

He was certain he was going to die.

But instead, he got some useful advice to change his approach and was put down. Over the course of a week, he stalked the stranger, tried different tactics to ambush him, and watched him care for his own child. The kid was an idiot, no denying that, but he was surrounded by a kind father, a devoted sister, and was generally loved by the town’s people (he was not jealous!). Before the week was over the stranger sought him out, claiming he knew Ace was observing him the whole time. They talked a little and somehow the stranger figured out that he wasn’t related to the old man. Apparently, he knew the shitty old man’s son and knew he couldn’t have been his child.

Ace started lashing out, yelling whatever came into his mind. He wanted the stranger to go away and stop taking everything in stride to stop figuring things out. Then he made the ultimate mistake. He said his father was Gol D. Roger.

Stunned and terrified, Ace could only wait for the stranger to kill him. But nothing happened. The man continued to look bored as ever, if not a touch amused. The man even had the gall to claim his father was worse. After everything Ace had been led to believe, he was quick to rebut that statement by pointing out his father’s actions.

“My father was a demon! How can yours possibility be worse?”

“Did your father refuse to accept who you are? Did your father kill your family in a fit of rage? Did your father cut off your hand and maim your face?” The kid wasn’t going to win a game of ‘my dad’s worse than yours’ against a master.

Ace was stunned silence in the onslaught of questions. He stared at the golden hook and stitch scar that stretched from ear to ear.

“No? Well, take solace in this.” The stranger stared down at him, abusing every inch of his superior height. Formerly dead eyes now consumed with a burning, unyielding hate locked with his own. “First of all, Roger is dead and gone. Secondly, Whitebeard is still alive and I’m a long way from getting even. And finally, I wouldn’t build up a vision of your old man based on rumors or the jealous ranting of drunken idiots who never dared sail through Paradise, much less the New World.” His voice never changed. It was steady and low, but it was so cold.

He didn’t know what came over him. One second, he was staring at the stranger, the next he was clinging to his leg crying his heart out. A gentle hand smoothed his greasy locks followed by tender words he couldn’t recall for the life of him.

The stranger – well he really couldn’t call him that any more could he – created a throne of sand and settled Ace on his knee as he struggled to come to grips with losing complete control.

“Who are you?” He felt like he should at least know the name of the man who made him question…everything.

“Crocodile.” The veteran pirate returned to his normally disinterested visage, but his scar strangely resembled a wide smile and not a friendly one. “It’s polite to introduce yourself first.”

“Portas D. Ace.” It was an automatic rely. Gramps told him to never use his old man’s name, said it would only increase the number of people who wanted to kill him. That was never a problem. With everything he heard, Ace didn’t have a problem keeping his mother’s name. She was so strong and brave. She didn’t deserve to be forgotten.

“And why exactly is the son of Gol D. Roger and Portas D. Rouge on a little island in the East Blue, instead of with one of his hundreds of allies?” A brow raised at the question.

“Garp said my old man wanted him to look after me.” Ace answered bitterly. Gramps was…alright, he didn’t know that much about the man to have a solid opinion on him just yet, even if he knew his nickname was fully deserved. Dandan was harsh but she cared in her own way. On the other hand, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t wonder what other lives he could have had.

“That has got to be the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.” Crocodile nursed a growing headache. “Of course, that adrenaline junkie asked him of all people.” He muttered under his breath. Even if Garp was one of the few honorable marines in existence, his own spectacular failure with Dragon was proof enough he had no place raising children.

Roger gained hundreds of allies during his travels, anyone more than capable of caring for an infant. Or at least doing better than that idiot. Wait! Where was Rouge in all this? He remembered her as quite the spitfire. Still not sure how Roger was able to get her attention outside combat. Never mind. Focus. Why wasn’t the child’s mother raising him?

Rouge didn’t seem the type to ditch her own child. Even with the nightmare of Baterilla and several other islands haunting her dreams. Something must have happened. But what could take down a woman crazy enough to sleep with the Pirate King after years of trying to castrate the bastard? He’d grill Garp later.

“You knew my dad?” Ace asked, his voice meeker than he ever thought possible. Desperate to hear something different. Something that would prove he should be alive.

“Yeah. I also knew your mom.” Something told him that would attract his attention more.

Wide eyes stared at him with childish glee. “Really?” Without the constant glaring, the kid was pretty cute. The more he smiled the clearer the family ties were. This kid is gonna catch hell when he grows up.

“You have her freckles, but your basic facial structure seems to take after your old man.” Crocodile said, amused as the child who acted so tough absorbed every word like it was precious water.

The light of the sun reflected off the golden hook, blinding Ace momentarily. Rubbing his eyes, he could only think back to what Crocodile had previously said.

“I can’t believe your own father did that to you.” Ace was told that he should be dead by countless strangers, he never knew his father much less what he would think of him. Ace never dared to dream he would have a loving father, it felt cruel. But to meet someone whose father would harm them to this extent? It was beyond his nightmares.

“Believe it, brat. If nothing else, I had a tough time believing it myself, though I didn’t exactly have the luxury of ignoring it.”

“What’s it like? Just having one hand?” Makino would no doubt call him out on asking such a personal question to someone he just met, but he’d deal with that later.

“Overall, nothing’s changed too much; I’ve become quite adept at using it for intimidation and combat. But it’s the little things that I miss the most.” Crocodile’s voice became lower as he stared at the golden prosthetic. So many times, he longed for the freedom to use both hands. Countless nights he lay awake as phantom pains destroyed any hope of sleep. Electric pain coursed through his body as the scar tissue burned and no amount of shifting would make a difference.

“Little things?” Ace blinked up at him in a way Crocodile knew he would deny was ever adorable. Apparently, as the future little brother only Luffy could be cute, Ace was ‘manly’.

“Using forks and knives simultaneously, being able to roll up my sleeves at the end of a day, tussling the hair of two brats. And so on. Like I said little things, the stuff no one thinks about until it becomes impossible to do.” With each addition to Crocodile’s list, the more horrified Ace became.

He never thought about stuff like that. He just did them. To suddenly be robbed of the full use of your hands- he wasn’t sure how he could face it.

“Looks like I have two brats now.”

Ace snap up in confusion before wincing. He should not have done that so quickly, but needless to say, “Huh?”

“For some idiotic reason, Roger entrusted you to _him_ and he sucks at raising kids. So you’re mine now.” Crocodile stated plainly as though it was the simplest concept in the world. Ace was picked up and set back on the ground. Crocodile stood, returning the throne to basic sand that was scattered throughout the trail.

“Come, I’ve got to introduce you to your little brother and put Garp through a mountain.” His tone shifted, gaining a mischievous quality. “Unless you aren’t interested in that, in which case I completely-

Before he could finish, Ace started running back to town. “Let’s go! I’ve been waiting for that shitty old man to get smacked down for years!” For Ace, this wasn’t just the start of a new family, it was the start of a new life.

Mentally Crocodile was berating himself for falling for the brat’s stupid sob story. He already had one young idiot to look after and now he was claiming ownership of another. Augh. It’s fine. It’s fine. Two kids. He can handle this. He was giving two brats a house and a taste of a semi-normal family. Nothing wrong with that.

He’d just have to watch out and make sure things stayed that way.

* * *

Having Ace in his life definitely reduced Luffy’s subconscious separation anxiety. He quickly grew attached to the freckled child, always seeing him in a positive light, and dragging him along whenever he found something new. The way Luffy bounced up and down around Ace to get his attention brought the image of an excitable puppy to mind.

The older boy was taking the change in stride but expressed concern over being a good sibling. The two of them spent their free time exploring and hunting in the woods, but that soon changed once Luffy bragged to Makino about the boar he caught one night. Learning that two children were subsisting on whatever they caught infuriated her, especially since Luffy and Ace had plenty of food in the cabin due to Crocodile’s budget.

Ace explained that it was a habit due to spending years fending for himself. He didn’t know how to let someone else get food for him and Luffy just wanted to spend time with his big brother, so he tagged along. No one was surprised by that answer. Needless to say, Makino ensured they had their meals inside their home like normal children from that moment on. Although teaching Ace how to use utensils was a challenge.

Crocodile was rightfully upset upon his next visit. He swore he’d talk to Garp about Ace’s upbringing. One of the many ways the old man screwed the brat over. It was bad enough the brat managed to develop a suicide complex in less than six years.

As for Makino’s kindness, he organized a bank account in her name and a monthly payment plan as thanks for her compassion. He knew trying to control those boys wasn’t easy, even with his abilities, so it was only fitting the girl was properly compensated for her actions.

He watched the two of them run around a clearing in the forest. They sparred regularly, either with their fists or whatever they could find. They were especially fond of a long segment of steel pipe they wielded like a makeshift sword or staff. Due to fighting with pure instinct, their swings had no real form, but they held a surprising amount of power for their age and size. A side effect of their bloodlines perhaps.

There was one habit Crocodile had no intention of breaking. Due to Ace’s past as a hunter, he grew to be quite proficient in creating a variety of traps. Traps that tended to snare one form of prey in particular.

He just wished they wouldn’t wake him up whenever they caught something.

If they could manage to crawl off him at dawn without disturbing him, surely they could wait another hour for him to wake up on his own. He had nothing against them curling up on his chest when they slept. Comparatively, it was like having a pair of cats lounge on him, a relatively comforting weight and the knowledge two idiots weren’t going out to get themselves killed in the middle of the night.

Crocodile awoke to the sound of childlike laughter. Most parents would view this as a happy moment, but they didn’t have to deal with his brats. He’s well versed in how such giggling could only be the prelude to world shattering mayhem. Or at least the demolition to any peace and quiet in a ten-mile radius. He debated on ignoring them, hoping that the boys would soon lose interest. When that didn't work, he moved onto threats.

“If you two aren’t gone in three seconds, the world will no longer have to fear two more D’s taking up a jolly roger.” He growled, too tired to even bother opening his eyes.

That tactic proved equally as ineffective as he felt something small poking at his cheek as the foreboding laughter increased in volume. Peeling an eye open, he caught sight of his boys looking far too proud.

He was about to ask who they killed when something outside forced him fully awake.

“AAAAAAAACCCCCCEEEEE! LLLLLLLUUUUUFFFFFYYYYY!” The voice was loud, angry, and more than anything familiar. “YOU DAMN, BRATS!!!!!!!”

Sitting up he watched as his children’s’ smiler grow all the wider. They were starting to remind him of a certain pigeon. Sighing, he stepped outside to survey the damage.

On second thought, this was worth all the unpleasantness.

Monkey D. Garp, the great Hero, hanging by his ankle from a trap devised by two brats not even adding up to a single decade.

“Don’t just stand there, damn it! Do something!” Garp spat out, face turning a lovely shade of red. Arms flailing in a desperate gambling to latch onto something. He made quite a sight.

Crocodile was in complete agreement. “Well done.” He laid a gentle hand on both the boys’ heads, ruffling black locks. “He’s nearly three inches higher than last time.” They were improving at a steady pace. The first time he saw Garp’s capture the man’s head was firmly on the ground. Now he was freely swinging with no hope of latching onto something in order to undo his predicament.

“It’s all a matter of knot technique.” Ace proudly boasted. Not leaning into the comforting touch one bit. Anywho would say otherwise is a dirty liar! “But I still feel like the grave’s motion triggered snare could be improved.”

“A new goal then.” Objects started to fall from Garp’s upturned pockets. Snacks. A baby transponder snail. Documents. They all fell to the dry, fertile soil. “And it appears Garp has quite a selection of snacks to share. Such a good grandfather.”

At the mention of food, Luffy rushed to the growing pile, claiming as many packets of rice crackers as he could. Meaning all of them. Ace was quick to join him in rifling through the fallen trinkets.

“Hey! Put those down!” Garp shouted.

Ace picked up an envelope with an unusual recipient. “This is addressed to you.” He turned towards his father figure holding out the letter.

“Hmm.” Taking the envelope from Ace, he took note of his name in elaborate cursive. Splitting open the seal with a well-practiced cut, he flipped open the letter. The first paragraph was formal garbage, but the rest was interesting. Nothing about entering the Warlord system, but that didn’t necessarily mean he was out of the running just yet. There was a particular phrase that caught his attention. “A summons to Navy Headquarters?”

“Your hard works finally paid off.” Garp bitterly acknowledged, swiping at Luffy to get back his crackers. Only for the boy to lean just out of reach at the last second with a beaming grin. “Sengoku wishes to speak to you in person. There is one last obstacle, then you’ll officially be a Warlord.”

“And why couldn’t you relay the details?” If he had to complete one more task, why not just tell him? Why are the secrecy? Theoretically, what could be safer than having the Navy’s hero deliver the message?

“You don’t have his confidence as a potential ally just yet. And this is…” Garp turned his head, coughing to disguise his discomfort. “…well, a sensitive topic.”

Staring down at the man with narrowed eyes, Crocodile took notice of the sweat that wasn’t caused by the inversion of gravity. Whatever they wanted him to do or rather who they wanted him to kill was not a normal target. “Fine. Let him down.” He instructed his idiots.

“Ahhhh.” Luffy whined, not happy to undo their latest creation.

“He can’t stay up there forever. What did the trees ever do to be stuck with such company?” Crocodile joked.

The boys snickered at the insult. Releasing a few knots and unwrapping a few segments of rope, Garp was freed. And fell flat on his face, soon followed by the rest of him.

“What’s the big deal about being a Warlord anyway?” Ace muttered, looking at the ground with a frown.

“You’ll still be a pirate, right?” Luffy asked quite worried. Being a pirate was the embodiment of freedom, he didn’t understand why anyone would willingly seek to give it up.

“I will always be a pirate. I’ll simply be working with the Navy on certain matters along with a handsome paycheck.” Crocodile assured.

“But you’re rich already and you regularly steal the treasure from other crew. What do you need more for?” Luffy innocently asked. He knew that collecting treasure was an important part of being a pirate, but what was the point of being one if the Navy just gave it to you. Where’s the fun in that?

“You’ll always need money.” Crocodile corrected. “How do you assume I was able to obtain that decade aged sea king steak for your birthday?”

Just the memory of that luxurious piece of meat made him drool. It was so rich and tender he could practically drink it. The juices flowed into his mouth at the slightest touch. And if all that wasn’t enough, it was almost four times his size and all for him. “Money is awesome!” Luffy announced.

“By claiming the title of Warlord, I’ll no longer have to concern myself with getting hunted down by moronic marines.” Crocodile savored the affronted expressed Garp donned at the insult.

“So, you’ll be able to stay home more?” Luffy asked.

Crocodile nodded much to Luffy’s joy.

“I guess it’s okay.” Ace bitterly conceded. “You’re gonna leave now, aren’t you?”

“Yes.” The sooner he finalized all the paperwork the sooner he could carry out his preparations to moving the two of them to Alabasta.

* * *

Navy protocol dictated that his ship set anchor no less than twenty miles away from Marineford. The guest would then call using the provided number, hailing a marine vessel to sail over and pick up the individual, leaving the ship and any crewmates behind.

Being escorted to the Round Table without the fear of being sent to Impel Down was a strange experience. He could feel the eyes of every marine he passed. How they ached to throw him away or rip his heart out. Soon they’d never be able to touch him, but he could touch them. So many lives were lost at sea every day. Even with the greatest of preparations, accidents happen.

“Sir Crocodile.” Sengoku greeted. By his side a goat bleated.

Tsuru was sitting to his left, hands folded, wearing a stern expression.

“Fleet Admiral Sengoku. Vice-Admiral Tsuru.” Crocodile returned.

The enlightened human wasted no time. “I’m sure you’ve guessed what I’m going to ask of you.”

“Wasn’t hard. You still have seven Warlords and not one of them is close to death.” Meaning he’d have to earn his seat with blood.

“That is correct. In order for there to be a position for you to fill we need you to kill one of the existing Warlords.” Sengoku explained, although there was truly no need. If Crocodile didn’t know any better, he’d assume the man was strictly following protocol in order to restrain himself.

Either way, he always suspected it might come down to this. Now all those nights scanning and memorizing reports were going to pay off. “Very well. I’m aware of their capabilities and territories, I’ll set off immediately.”

“Not quite. We already have your target picked out for you.” Tsuru intercepted. “Please, sit.”

Sengoku slid a folder across the table. The side tab read Hornigold Howell. A current Warlord and general douche.

Flipping through the pages, Crocodile wasn’t impressed. Overall, this pirate was only somewhat impressive, but displayed a sense of planning and use of his devil fruit powers slightly above average for a Paradise pirate. If this was accurate, he’d never left paradise in his twenty-nine years of piracy. Although he’d be inviting an early retirement to assume the Marines had witnessed the full scale of his capabilities and travels.

The only feat of his worth mentioning was the time he led an assault on a Marine training outpost under the command of a former Admiral. To think they’d offer this man such a post after remorselessly slaughtering their troops and maiming one of their best men. Logically he could see the reason, but from the human standpoint, he wondered how many threatened to quit or went rogue once the decision went public.

A potential problem was the nature of his Gol-Gol Fruit. Due to his prosthetic, he was at an immediate disadvantage. If he commanded it to suffocate him the second he entered his range, he would have a split second to turn into sand at best. He may have to enter battle without his favored secondary weapon.

Regardless he’d come back with his head, he’d come too far to stop now.

Reports stated that he was docked in the eastern waters of the Sorbet Kingdom. He had a long voyage ahead of him to the South Blue.

* * *

The man was clever he’d give him that.

The greatest weakness of the Gol-Gol Fruit was its user’s inability to create its element like other paramecia’s, requiring the presence of a hefty amount of gold to be of any use. To compensate, Howell had amassed a large horde of golden ingot and coins. He was skilled at forming weapons and armor. He even had to foresight to hide golden plates under his ship’s floorboards. Twice he had nearly be impaled by golden spikes or held down by manacles.

But it was all for nothing.

The man possessed somewhat average observation haki, but abysmal armament haki. Honestly based on the feel of the few hits he got in he might as well not have it at all. A bloody nose, a severed tendon on his right leg, and his shattered left arm spoke volumes for how the battle would end.

The distance between them was closing. Crocodile could smell the fear as sweat dripped down his chin. His heartbeat resonated with the golden armor he encased himself in at the beginning of the battle. He could see it in his eyes, he was about to use his trump card as a last-ditch effort to survive.

Gold was starting to pool around the man, rising as the seconds passed and taking the form of an elaborate egg. Crocodile had read about this technique in his file, it was dubbed Fabergé Defense. He was surrounded by a thick, elaborately decorated egg to shield himself from all sides, including above and below, while launching weaponry guided by observation haki. It was a smart play, but required an immense amount of concentration and gold to pull off. Normally he could hold it for hours, but he’d never faced such a malign opponent before.

This was his final tactic.

Such a shame his multiple injuries were proving a distraction. The longer the battle wore on, the weaker the shell would become as his frantically sent out more weapons in his attempts to kill Crocodile. The man was desperate and heartbroken. The air was thick with copper. The screams and dying wails of his crewmates echoed around him. Mistakes were bound to be made.

There!

A blade of sand shot forward, outpacing the Navy’s most advanced guns, piercing the reinforced shell. It wasn’t much, no bigger than a tick, but it was more than enough for him. Once a few grains touched bare, unprotected skin he began the drying process. Clothing, armor, flesh, even the golden shell itself was sucked dry and became sand. The shell began to crack and fragment as trails of sand broke free.

Crocodile calmly stepped forward, the sand just meeting the tips of his shoes as it revealed the halfway desiccated pirate. His torso and head were in prime condition, but his legs looked like they’d disperse with a gentle breeze. The wheezy gaps were the only sign of life left in this pitiful excuse of a pirate. But he wouldn’t last much longer, ten minutes tops before his lungs collapsed from the strain.

He couldn’t return to Marineford without proof he’d done the deed. He couldn’t risk Sengoku going back on his word and choosing to arrest him. He had heard plenty of rumors detailing that very situation and he had no intention of adding to the rumor mill.

He picked up a discarded sword, its polished blade gleamed in the sunlight.

* * *

The fuck was he seeing?

He had just returned from Alabasta, everything was going smoothly, and felt it was only proper to reward himself with a trip to check in on his brats. Immediately he knew something was wrong. Luffy and Ace were nowhere to be seen on the docks. Makino was looking quite nervous as she greeted him from the boys’ usual spot, wringing her hands together and taking deep breaths. She looked worried, but she wasn’t frantic, meaning that nothing serious had happened.

No one stepped outside their doors as they entered the small town. The entire village was a ghost town, or at least doing its best to mimic one. She led him to the cabin on the outskirts of town that served as their primary residence. Standing in front of the door was an unsuspected sight.

Luffy was beaming up at him, his scrawny arms wrapped around a boy roughly Ace’s age dressed in formal wear favored by the nobility of the Goa Kingdom. His eyes held a brilliant light as his smile gleamed like the sun.

The top hat wearing youth, to his credit, while obviously scared out of his mind was doing his best to smile and properly greet him. Judging by the wrinkles in his clothing, he had been trying to run when he heard Crocodile had arrived only to be restrained by a stubborn monkey.

Ace was standing off to the side, smirking. He clearly saw this as great entertainment. But there was a protective aura around him. Whoever this youth was, Ace cared about him and wanted him safe.

“Hey Dad. This is Sabo. Can we keep him? Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please.” Crocodile tuned him out after the second please. He knew from experience the brat could keep this up indefinitely.

The fuck was his life? He wasn’t even gone a year and somehow his brat managed to adopt a second brother.

Hold on. Is this adopting other people as family a trait genetic? Oh fuck, it is! Damn that old man to hell!

“Luffy, you can’t just adopt a random person. He’s not a piece of furniture that can be claimed.” He tried to reason with his insane son.

Luffy looked at him as though he was speaking another language. “Sabo’s not random! We’ve been living together for months. He’s my new brother. We shared sake and everything.” Yes, and that made perfect sense.

Seeing as that wasn’t going anywhere, he turned to the embarrassed youth. “Where are your parents?” He was hopeful they could take him home and Luffy would get the message. Or at least be less clingy.

Sadly, in true D fashion that plan immediately backfired.

“Please don’t send me back!” Was the boy’s response. Pure fear and rage poured off the tiny body. “They’re horrible! They don’t see me as anything more than a prop. I like it down here. It’s cold and hard and painful, but it’s real. I like having brothers. I like having family members who care about me. Please, Sir, can I stay? Can I join your family?” The brat, Sabo, pleaded, eyes releasing an ungodly amount of innocent tears.

Fuck.

* * *

A Warlord was capable of claiming any land as their territory according to their contract with the Navy. On paper, it sounded too good to be true and it was. A Warlord could claim any nation as their own, but that doesn’t prevent the citizens from revolting should they refuse the presence of a deadly pirate in their home. But if they liked the pirate in question, it was almost like The claim carried many perks.

The Navy would have no business patrolling in the area and any marine personnel would have to file a request just to enter the island’s waters. The nation would also be listed as one of the locations the Navy would aid in protecting when under attack from outer or internal threats. In times of crisis, the Warlord could summon Navy battleships to aid in fighting off attackers, even a vice admiral or two depending on the danger to civilians. In short, the perfect method to establish a well-fortified base for a King of the Underworld.

“Why? Why is he so fixated on that spit of a nation? He could claim any territory he wanted yet he chose a wasteland in the beginning of the grand line.” These questions had been the source of much of Doflamingo’s growing frustration. Alabasta’s climate and landscape were hardly rare in either half of the Grand Line.

“Regarding his powers, being in a desert would only serve to increase his offensive potential,” Trebol stated. It made the most sense to him.

“I’m fully aware of that. But he can create a desert anywhere. So why is he staying?” Doflamingo questioned. “I know he despises the royal family. If it was simply a matter of disposing the fool and taking the crown for himself, I would be happy to help.” They were exactly like the Riku’s who had been left to tend to Dressrosa. Kind, compassionate, loving, and so sweet he could feel his teeth rotting. He couldn’t wait to gain enough power to topple those peace-loving fools. He could feel it, just a little bit longer and the entire royal army would become his puppet show with the king taking center stage.

“It was quite rude of him to refuse your generous offer.” Diamante remarked as he cleaned his sword.

Not too long ago, Doflamingo offered his aid in removing Cobra. It would have been a wonderful way to test his own plans and get some prime entertainment out of it. The reptile promptly refused and returned to his reformed citizen act.

“He’s all hung up about earning his own paradise. I do understand the reasons why, even if I don’t agree. I suppose not everyone can be blessed with such versatile abilities.” Even if he didn’t have the power to enact his plan just yet, doesn’t mean he didn’t already know how he was doing to it. Just thinking about all the screaming, tears, and blood sent jolts of pleasure through his body.

“Alabasta is the homeland of one of the twenty royal families, the only one who refused to ascend. Do you think it’s possible he’s aiming for revenge against the world nobles by targeting those who aren’t religiously protected?” Vergo offered. It was one of the rare times his former heart seat could join the rest of the family. He should have been eagerly dissecting whatever information Vergo had to offer, but for some reason, he couldn’t put this down.

What’s weird is that his brother left early in the morning and hadn’t been seen since. Admittingly he had done this in the past, but he was really looking forward to introducing the two. They didn’t even know each other’s names yet. It was supposed to be a big surprise get together. He wanted his two hearts to get along. They were some of his most precious people.

Another time perhaps.

“Possible? Yes. Probable? Not quite. But you are onto something. Maybe there’s something hidden there that’s worth all this effort. Something only the royal family has access to.” A true royal family. One of the original twenty royal families who formed the World Government all those centuries ago, the only one who refused to ascend. They were viewed as traitors to the Celestial Dragons, even more than his father who choose to leave. To abandon their divine birthright and crawl through the filth of the mortal realm.

There were days he wished he kept his father alive. He would have been the ideal target to further hone his abilities once the townspeople all died.

For as long as Doflamingo knew Crocodile, he was always on the move. Rarely sticking to one island for more than a few weeks. Yet suddenly he chooses this nation and went out of his way to charm the populace. Instead of leading them to their deaths, which would have been hilarious, he creates a legal business and uses his influence to propel Alabasta back to its glory days.

It was all so kindhearted and well-meaning, nothing like the Crocodile he knew. There had to be an angle he wasn’t seeing. Crocodile wouldn’t waste his time like this. It wasn’t even that important, yet the question kept pounding inside his skull. He’d find out. He would or rip his darling to pieces in the process.

* * *

Damn that wretched bird.

Dragging him out to the middle of fucking nowhere, bombarding him with questions he had no business sticking his nose in, then bailing when he refused to answer. This entire trip was nothing but a waste of time. He could just as easily ignore him during a call and they’d get more work done.

Augh. He needed to unwind. He needed to go to place where he could just let loose, slaughter a few innocent civilians, and not have to worry about playing the hero. Ugh, just saying it made him want to stab a fucker.

He couldn’t go anywhere near Alabasta or his children in this state. The Navy didn’t even have an upstart crew for him to hunt down. He needed something to shred, something to bleed-

Hello, what do we have here? A minor island in the Grand Line who the government rescinded its protection after failing to pay the heavenly tribute for nearly a decade. The last survey counted less than one thousand residence lived there and with no connections to the Navy he wouldn’t have to play nice.

“Sail course for Ejiki Island.”

“Right away, Sir.” The helmsman quickly adjusted his log pose. He was clever enough not to ask questions.

Before setting a single foot on the island, the inhabitants already suspected what he wanted. He ordered his men to make quick work of any and all forms of transportation, wouldn’t due to come so far only to lose it all during his vacation. Daz and Zala were quite capable of killing anyone who had been trying to flee.

Now that was taken care of, he could enjoy himself.

The screams and panicked shouts echoed as the sun sets on this once peaceful island. Civilians ran in all directions, fear etched into their hearts. Crocodile savored the clear terror. While being a hero served his purposes, he couldn’t deny the thrill that raced through him as he held hundreds within his grasp and listened as their screams and begging faded into a sweet silence.

The smell of blood was filling the air, bringing with it pleasant memories of days long past. Days when he once sought out a connection with his family. When he wished to know the love of a father. When he drank alongside those he fought a bled beside. Those memories would serve to motivate his ambitions. And these weaklings would die broken and alone!

Interesting. They were running in every direction to escape him, except one. Looking closer there was a figure curled up in the alley. It wasn’t running. It wasn’t acknowledging the danger or the screams at all.

It was a child.

Small, filthy, but more than anything else it was zoan user. Instead of normal ears, a pair of furred pointed ones rested just short of the top of the skull. A striped tail wrapped around their feet. And the nose was far too flat and triangular to be a normal humans.

Perhaps this trip was good for something after all.

“Stay away. I’m a monster.” A frail, broken voice whispered. It carried a feminine touch, but ti was almost eclipsed by the sheer emptiness within.

Standing at the beginning of the alley he took a closer look at the little girl. “You’re not a monster. You’re a child.” It wasn’t uncommon for residence of the Four Blues to be ignorant of the existence of devil fruits, but he held the people of the Grand line in a higher regard than this.

“What child looks like this?” She raised her head and spread her arms wide, showing the elaborate markings decorating pale skin. Her hands were tipped with claws nearly an inch long.

“One who has eaten a devil fruit.” A variation of the Cat-Cat Fruit if he had to guess. Looks like she was trapped in the hybrid form.

Seeing the child wasn’t believing him, Crocodile tried to retrace her past. “The powers appeared after you ate something, something that tasted rancid despite looking fresh. The fruit had a swirl pattern that made you dizzy if you tried to trace it.”

The girl blinked in shock, the most emotion she had shown yet, as though he was looking into her past. “What does that have to do with anything?” Her voice, once so empty, now trembled with barely restrained emotion. Hope could be such burden.

“Everything.” Transforming into sand he reformed across from her. The wide eyes and nearly dislocated jaw demonstrated he now held her full attention.

“Where are your parents?” Even if the public’s knowledge of devil fruits was at its best nonexistent and sheer ignorance and rumor driven at its worse, he didn’t think the average parent would leave their child in such a state.

“I killed them." She stated tears started the wheel up in her eyes. "I didn’t-I didn’t mean to. There was so much n-noise. So many scents. It hurt to think, a, a-and they wouldn’t go away. I just w-wanted them to step back and I-” She tried to hold on, to explain as much as she could, but bit by bit she lost control. The young cat-human broke down sobbing, tears mingling with her filth encrusted clothes and skin.

No. No. He had already taken in two brats who had broken down and fed him a sob story. He wasn't going three for three. He wasn't. You couldn't make him.

“Come with me."

Fuck.

She looked at him as though he'd lost his mind.

“What is your name?” Crocodile asked, mentally raging against this nonsense.

“Edalyn.” The named child stared at him with the biggest eyes. One hand reached forward, then another, until she was crawling towards him and out of the darkness.

“Edalyn, I’ll be your father now.” He swore reaching out a gentle hand that would forever seal her fate. “I’ll take you to your new family.”

What was one more child to his little brood? He might as well surrender to his fate as being a father to many. Besides the more children he took in, the more embarrassments the Navy would struggle to mask.

* * *

Crocodile first met Shanks when the red-haired brat was just a cabin boy on Roger’s ship. He was skilled with a sword, cunning, and had the makings of a true pirate. But he had moments that really made the elder question his sanity. He swore Red Hair was a secret D. It was the only explanation for him to get away with the shit he pulled only to wind up on top.

The worst offense is when he left a fucking devil fruit in front of a gluttonous brat and expected him not to eat it!

When Crocodile felt his son’s face stretch for the first time when he examined the scar on his face (which would be talked about!) his first emotion was concern. Devil fruits weren’t easy to find and any who possessed them and didn’t immediately eat them, tended to sell them to the highest bidder. He would have to put out a patrol in case those Luffy stole from came back to regain their lost property and decided to take out their frustrations on his hopeless brat.

Then there were the marines who could have been the intended buyers. Those who followed absolute justice would have little issue killing a child in order to return it to circulation once they heard of his goal to become a pirate. Blood of the Hero be damned.

His emotions quickly turned to rage as he learned how Luffy got his hands on such a rare fruit. That damned hotshot just couldn’t seem to use his brain half the time. Crocodile didn’t care he spent his days half-drunk since he was ten.

After Makino explained exactly what happened, Crocodile conceded his plans for bloody vengeance. Hearing about Shanks' panicked reaction and attempts to pry Luffy’s mouth open did help, but he still fully intended to scar the idiot for life. He was on his way to becoming a fucking Yonko! Surely, he could slap a knife out of an idiot’s hand to keep him from hurting himself. Or at least close a box and keep it away from a bottomless pit, who lacked any and all common sense or self-preservation instincts.

The fucker had been visiting Dawn Island for over a year! He’d practically adopted Luffy just by laying eyes on him! He should know how simple-minded the brat was. He even confided to Crocodile how much the kid reminded him of Roger and that man was hopeless in identifying deadly situations. Okay, it wasn’t so much as he couldn’t identify them as choosing to run straight towards them without a care. Admittedly Shanks was too drunk to remember who Crocodile was or even suspect he could have a connection to the brat, much less question why he was visiting a small island in the middle of the East Blue. 

How did that man live so long? And how can he do the same for Luffy?

The boy was determined to start his own crew and find the members himself, meaning he wouldn’t be under his protection forever and he couldn’t reassign Bentham to watch over him. But his siblings could.

Sabo, Ace, and Eda proved far more grounded and aware of the reality they lived in than Luffy ever demonstrated. If they were part of his crew then they could look after him. They could help him thrive in a dangerous world as he sought out his future crewmates.

Maybe Garp was onto something with the early training. As soon as he moved to Alabasta, he’d start drawing up some training schedules for the three, along with figuring what fighting style Luffy could incorporate with his powers. He had seen that boy punch himself in the face far too many times in the past hour alone.

But for now, he had a call to make.

* * *

In a stretch of water in a relaxing part of Paradise, the Red Force set anchor as the crew settled in to enjoy their latest haul. Shanks looked up to the sun, proud of all he had accomplished since setting out on his own.

_Purupuru. Purupuru._

Lookin gto the side, he couldn't help but wonder who would call him out of the small selection of individuals who had his number.

Shanks picked up the transceiver with a smile. _Gacha_

“Red Hair Pirates, where mayhem and parties reach new heights of madness.”

“Hello, bleeding heart.” A low growl rolled from the transponder snail as its features took on a vicious glare.

“Damn it, Croc. When are you gonna let that name go?” Shanks had it up to here with that thrice-damned nickname. Yes, he cared about people and always looked out for his brother, but did Crocodile always have to make it sound like such a bad thing. I mean, in what context does kindness equate to weakness?

“Never. The other day, I heard the most interesting tale. I arrived on a little island in the East Blue where I learned a certain brat had become a rubber-human.”

Shanks felt uneasy as Crocodile describe an event that occurred not even a month ago in a secluded island in what was dubbed the Weakest Blue. No one should know about his friendship with Anchor. There's no telling what his growing list of enemies would do to a child in order to get him to submit.

“Now tell me, Shanks, what were you thinking leaving a devil fruit in front of him?”

Shanks glared at the snail. If this asshole thought he could use his Anchor to blackmail him, the reptile bastard truly didn't know him at all. Much less if he thought he'd take this lying down. “I don’t see how that pertains to you.”

“It becomes my problem when your stupidity messes with my brat.”

Anger melted off Shanks as he struggled to comprehend what he just heard. “Say what now?”

“Luffy is one of my brats. Would you be so kind as to explain why you didn’t slap the knife out of his hands when he said he was going to give himself a scar? Much less when you saw him start to do it?" Was it just him or was that glare becoming more menacing?

“Aaaaahhhhhh…………..Could one of you guys take this?” Gulping Shanks turned to his loving crew.

“Sorry, Captain. You’re on your own.” Ben said, moving to hide below deck. The rest of the crew took the first mate’s example to heart and were quick to make themselves scarce.

“Real supportive guys.” Didn’t he have just the greatest crew in the world?

“I’m waiting, bleeding heart.”

That wasn’t over a transponder snail. Looking down Shanks saw a large shadow eclipsing him in darkness. Slowly turning around, he saw a pair of slit pupils staring down at him. The feeling of cold metal wrapped around his neck in warning.

A protective parent. It was fucking genetic.

A Warlord? He could handle.

An Admiral? Bring it on.

A Yonko? He’d dance on their grave.

A justifiably enraged parent? Oh boy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Edalyn is an OC of mine. For readers who aren't fans of OCs don't worry, she won't take up too much space. Even in a world like One Piece you need to bring in your own personal touch.


	6. Winds of Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A series of tragedies force a massive change that will alter many lives.

When Crocodile was told they had met an unexpected opposition, he had a list of potential threats. Anything from rogue marines to rival pirates, of course one couldn’t forget the dangers of the Grand Line itself. This life was a dangerous one, one where you couldn’t afford to let yourself get too comfortable. Walking to the front to see the problem with his own two eyes left him with quite a surprise.

Mere yards away from the hull was a ship unlike any other. It was slightly bigger than a raft, carved to resemble a coffin. A massive crucifix was fashioned into a mast. Candles were placed on the edges lit with emerald flames. In the center of it all was a chair fashioned into a throne where a man comfortably sat.

He knew that ship and more importantly he knew the man sitting upon it. Only one man was insane and skilled enough to sail the waters of the Grand Line with such a meager vessel.

“Dracule Mihawk.”

The oversized brim lifted, revealing a pair of brilliant gold eyes. “Sir Crocodile.” The world’s greatest swordsman greeted.

“Is there a reason you are blocking my ship?”

He had yet to uncross his legs, much less stand up. So long as he didn’t draw that monstrosity of a sword on his ship he didn’t care. “Call it curiosity.”

“On what exactly? I highly doubt you’re interested in my preferred whiskey pairing. As you are aware, I don’t have any swordsmen on my ship that would require you to use not but a toothpick.” Crocodile sensed the bristling of hurt feelings but couldn’t bring himself to care. If they couldn’t handle such an obvious truth, then perhaps they weren’t worth his time after all.

The force of nature condensed into the form of a man finally stood, eyes locked with the Desert King. “I am, but I do enjoy our conversations. It is a rarity that the two of us interact outside the mandatory Warlord meetings.”

“You speak as though you attend those any more than the standard version.” It was actually quite impressive how little he could get away with. Mihawk was made a Warlord just a few years before Crocodile and already made a name for himself for attending the least number of meetings in Warlord history.

“I find myself in need of a quick row and you were the only pirate of acceptable talent in the Blue. So I am curious as to how many of your crewmates I need to kill before you’ll give me what I want.” Dracule stated.

Crocodile sensed his crewmembers reach for their weapons, at least the dumb ones. He really had to reevaluate the worth of his men. As for the challenge… “The answer is none. I don’t have the time to waste looking for replacements at this time. There is an island nearby with a minimal Navy presence, can you wait long enough for us to arrive for your little tiff?”

“That is acceptable. Afterwards I look forward to sharing an evening meal together and catching up. Shanks told me the most fascinating story and I’d like your verification.” If Crocodile didn’t know Hawk Eye for so many years, he would have completely missed the smug, arrogant, condescending smirk he was flashing at him.

“Damn brat.” A thousand curses on that worthless Red Hair.

“Indeed he is.” Mihawk had to agree with that.

* * *

“I still can’t believe you’re working with Doflamingo.”

Ever since Crocodile explained why he needed Garp to take Tsuru to Dawn Island outside their normal schedule the man had been up in arms. He had been raving about the evils the pink obsessed pirate (seriously who designs a ship like that?) had committed and the atrocities he relished in unleashing on marines, rookie and experienced alike.

“Calm yourself, Garp. It’s merely a temporary transaction.” At least in a semi-legal state.

“So you’ve claimed, but I don’t think you realize just what kind of monster you’re dealing with.” Garp had read the reports of that monster’s misdeeds. Fuck, he’d seen the auction houses the man had set up in Sabaody. If it wasn’t so popular with the Celestial Dragons, he’d tear it down with his bare hands and burn it until not even ashes remain.

“Last I checked, I’m hardly a saint myself.” If you asked any of his so-called ‘brothers’ growing up, they’d argue he was a devil wrapped in the flesh of a cute little girl. Besides he’d been making Underworld deals with the Heavenly Yaksha for years, this was par the course. Although he doubted his other contacts had to deal with his clingy bullshit.

“You may be pirate scum, but at least you’ve proven to possess basic morals.” Garp swallowed. He really wished he had a few barrels of alcohol to talk this out, something strong. As much as he hated thinking about it, he couldn’t image a life without the family he was blessed with. Having so many grandchildren filled him with more bliss than words could say, he never missed out a chance to show off his growing wallet collection. Crocodile may have been a complete psychopath, but the man was trying to be a supportive father, which was more than most assholes he had the displeasure of knowing.

“I don’t pretend to understand what does on in that bastard’s head, however, I do know complying for the moment will save me a massive headache in the future. I don’t know when I’ll be back, so I’m counting on you and Tsuru to watch over the brats until I return.” Besides it had been a long time since they had spent any time with their ‘Gran-Gran’ and she was the only one who could usually put a stop to his ridiculous ‘training sessions’.

The old marine sighed, collapsing onto his chair in defeat. “Any chance that body in the paper today was his?”

“You know we aren’t that lucky. Even if it was, I can’t risk ignoring the invitation.” The brat tended to be even more insufferable when he felt slighted. No telling how he’d retaliate. Especially with the mounting danger he presented.

His reputation as Joker was growing. Soon his information network would have the capacity to rival his own and if that happens, there’s no telling if the brats will be able to remain hidden. He may have to come clean to avoid the fallout, or at least most of it.

Doflamingo was not going to be happy learning about his time with Dragon, even less when he heard he had a child with him. He’d have to separate him from his overprotective family. Crocodile had no doubt he could handle them all, but not all at once. He’d kill over half, but not without succumbing to his own wounds and that was not acceptable.

To avoid unwanted bloodshed, he’d have to play nice. Unfortunately, that meant accepting another request to meet in the North Blue. He hated the frozen hellhole, the constant moisture in the air trapped him in his own body. It reminded him of Roger’s death, specifically what happened afterward. He suspected it was one of the reasons why Doflamingo insisted on their rendezvous being in one of the most snow filled islands in the world.

Still Garp wasn’t deterred. “You don’t have to-”

“I’m not your son Garp.” Crocodile cut off Garp with no remorse. At times it felt like the old man was using him as a replacement due to his failure with Dragon and it was fucking irritating.

Signing at the man’s hurt whimpering, he really earned that figurehead, Crocodile chose to soothe the damage. “I appreciate what you're trying to do but it’s not wanted nor needed. All I need you to do is watch over my children. I didn’t get where I am in this world by being weak. I can handle myself and my men are hardly fools fated to die in a split second. I will return.”

“Yeah, you will. You will.” When the call ended Garp allowed a single tear to fall. Crocodile may have been a filthy pirate, but this was the closest he’d gotten to having a big, loving family in so long. He just- he didn’t want to lose it. “Please come back safe.”

* * *

Rosinante was utterly convinced his only purpose in life was to control the force of madness that manifested as his elder brother. After Doffy killed their father, he was left alone to cry. Cry over the death of his kind mother, his loving if naive father, and whatever humanity that once resided in his brother. Yes, his brother was dead, all that lived on was a demon writhing in his skin.

Heavenly Yaksha.

A demonic force expelled from the heavens, driven to endlessly wage war against the divine. The world government was right to label him that. His very moniker mocking him and his ambitions, while illustrating how twisted he really was.

Rosinante knows that he is very lucky despite his less than coordinated behavior in casual settings. He was lucky Sengoku found him that day and was willing to take him in. He was lucky to make it to the rank of commander so quickly in order to qualify for this mission. He was lucky Doflamingo recognized him after all these years and was willing to take him into his crew with minimal questions. He was lucky not to have been caught as a spy.

Yes, he was fortunate, but in too many ways he was an utter failure. He tried so hard to save as many people as possible from his brother’s influence, yet almost every time he fell short. Whether it was death or a lifetime serving in this farce of a family, they were doomed.

The most he could do was try to prevent his influence from corrupting children, even if it tore his heart to do it. Every time he was forced to throw a child out a window or kick them when they’re down, a piece of him broke down sobbing. In the darkness of his room, where he was free to express himself, he could only stare out onto the ocean desperate for any sign his efforts weren’t in vain. Sengoku assured him that his actions were saving dozens of children from falling to his brother’s toxic influence. He kept telling him how proud he was for his strength and kind heart, but Rosinante sometimes wondered just how proud he truly was.

He never imagined there was another being alive who could truly capture his brother’s attention. It really was prime nightmare fuel to ever consider someone who he saw as a true equal. What kind of heartless monster would ever be able to stand on the same blood-soaked pedestal even in a dream? The sheer impossibility of it all was enough to remind him how twisted his brother truly was. How diluted he was in the face of reality. How he stubbornly held onto the Celestial Dragon lie of being a god. Then he was proven wrong, his mind stalling as he struggled to comprehend this truth. Hard to believe it all began with a corpse.

Overall seeing a dead body was nothing special he had seen thousands, both as a marine and as a member of the Donquixote pirates. If nothing else, it was the way the poor soul had died that captivated Doflamingo’s interest and lightly disturbed Corazon. Half the body almost appeared shriveled, as if life had been pulled from it only to suddenly stop halfway. Then there was the massive hole through the torso, neatly severing the spine and just missing the lungs. Whoever did this wanted the bastard to die slowly.

His brother’s demented eternal grin widened as he took in every detail. A chill inducing chuckle followed as he started walking in a new direction, one that matched a half-buried trail in the freshly fallen snow. He followed without question just as the others did. Unlike him, however, they seemed to know who they would find at the end of this little hunt.

A mere five minutes later he found himself staring at one of the Seven Warlords of the Sea. Sir Crocodile, a recent addition after being tasked with killing his predecessor, was calmly standing in a perfect circle of dry cobblestone while the tortured wails of nearly two dozen pirates echoed around him in various states of death.

The smoke of a cigar lazily drifted towards the heavens as the black-haired man savored the newfound peace and quiet. Despite brash assumptions, losing his hand to Whitebeard seemed to make him even more dangerous. Early reports depicted the man as ruthless, but reasonable. After his defeat, he practically killed for breathing too close in his direction. But that wasn’t real problem.

Why was Crocodile here? He normally lingered around Alabasta after being crowned its hero and any time he left reports detailed that he stuck to the edges of Paradise near the East and South Blues. So why was he here when he had spent so much time avoiding these waters? Unless he hadn’t…If he found a way to travel and fool the marines who had been observing him, then there’s no telling what he’d actually been doing. What if other pirates had been using the same methods? How many of the pirate travel logs reported by navy soldiers were actually false or incomplete? His next report to Sengoku was going to be a nightmare.

As for their present dilemma, it was best for them to leave before the Warlord decides that their presence was an insult that needed correcting. All it would take is a few steps back to the ship and they could-

“Crocy!” Doflamingo shouted with pure excitement and an undertone of dark intent.

-immediately demand his attention. Damn it, Doffy!

Pale eyes turned to examine the speaker, looking as dispassionate as ever. “You still alive? I could have sworn I saw your corpse in last week’s paper.”

“Oh, so cruel.” A twisted excuse for a laugh followed. “No, no. That was merely an overconfident fool who paid the price for attempting to impersonate me.”

Rosinante remembered them. He remembered how they died. His brother was unusually meticulous in twisting their bodies until their every organ was pierced by bone and their clothes were dyed completely red.

“I’m glad you accepted my invitation. You were so eager to leave me last time, we didn’t get a chance to get down to the crux of our union. There is someone I want you to meet.”

Before Rosinante could process what he just heard, he found himself tugged forward and shoved in front of the perpetually bored pirate. He felt like the puppy a child showed off to their parents in hopes of keeping it. “This is my little brother, Rosinante. Can you believe I finally found him after all this time?” 

Rosinante hated when Doffy talked like that. It brought up hope. A painful hope that he could be saved. That there was still good in him and he could bring it out. Maybe Doflamingo could never be a good person, but there was a chance he didn’t have to be a complete and unforgivable monster.

As for Sir Crocodile, there was always something off about this pirate. He knew he had a part to play as a cutthroat pirate. He knew that the man before him was a dangerous opponent, who only sought out the Warlord title for his own personal gains. He suspected the reason all these men were dead wasn’t because of their profession, but of something stupid. Yet for all his knowledge, he couldn’t help but feel small.

“I see terrible fashion sense is a genetic trait.” Crocodile flatly noted.

Crocodile was nearly two feet shorter than him, yet the man stared down at him like he was little more than a boorish child. His luxurious fur coat and gleaming rings spoke volumes of wealth and experience. Even his stitched scar didn’t take away from his image of control. Compared to that he felt silly in his rumpled heart patterned shirt and burned feather coat. Then there were those eyes.

His gaze seemed to strip him of every defense until he was laid bare. He shouldn’t be scared. He had no reason to fear this man so long as Doflamingo remained the primary aggravator. But seas dammit, there was someone wrong with that gaze! There was something wrong with this man!

It was only years of training that kept him from gasping in relief when Doflamingo pushed him aside.

“Either way, I’m so glad you could make it and so quickly.”

Eyes narrowed as a cloud of smoke was exhaled in one annoyed sigh. “Don’t flatter yourself. I had some business to take care of and you were close by.”

“Fuffuffuffu. As you say.” Doflamingo entertained, rocking on his heels. He was still smiling, but it was smaller than usual, less intimidating and more heartfelt.

What’s this? Does Doffy- Is this big brother’s crush?

“I know that you’re busy, but since you’re here I have a few plans I’d like to go over with you.” A small stack was pulled from his feathered coat. Rosinante knew those plans. He watched as Doflamingo poured hours of malice and cruelty into ambitions to spread suffering to hundreds. It was sickening to watch, even more so when he offered his own ideas to avoid blowing his cover.

An arched brow gently rose in minor interest. “And just what is the objective of these plans of yours?”

“Oh, the usual. Death and destruction.” Doflamingo cheerfully answered with a demented grin, handing over the documents he spent weeks perfecting.

Crocodile gave the documents a cursory glance. Taking in the various double-crosses and manipulations with ease that could only come from engaging in such crimes himself. Overall a decent strategy, but if the brat truly wanted to reach his goals, he’d need to implement some serious changes.

“Simple-minded as always.” Crocodile sighed, ignoring the vicious glares of the three loyal executives. “Clearly you need my aid. These plans will only resort in short term destruction.” Returning the plans to their original owner, Crocodile leaned in close to the fallen god’s ear. “If you truly want to know satisfaction, then you’ll have to-” The last part was cut off as the veteran pirate whispered his advice.

The four executives were left in the dark. Each desperate to know what their captain might consider and how their plans might change.

Doflamingo hesitatingly stepped back, his body a trembling mess. Shakes convulsing his body even as he wrapped his arms around himself in an attempt to regain some fraction of stability.

It started slowly and quietly, then built until his entire body was thrown into mad laughter. “FUFFUFFUFFU! FUFFUFFUFFU! FUFFUFFUFFU! DERANGED! MADDENING! AN AFFRONT TO ALL THINGS HOLY AND PURE! FUFFUFFUFFU!”

As the three original executives calmed themselves at the display, Rosinante felt his throat constrict. Ideas filled his mind, each more deranged than the last, all pondering what could possibly wring that out of his older brother. The man complained about absolute boredom when he burned a town to the ground last year.

Slowly Doflamingo regained control of himself. “One of the many reasons I can never get enough.” A single-digit swept under his trademark glasses to wipe away stray tears. “Yes, I think those changes will be marvelous. I don’t suppose I can interest you in a drink. You came all this way after all.” Slowly an arm reached out, sneakily wanting to bring the treasure of a man closer.

“I’ve wasted enough time here.” The man spun on his heel, turning his back to the pink monster without a second thought. Casually tossing “Congratulations on finding your brother” over his shoulder as he walked away.

* * *

 _That was terrifying._ Normally Rosinante wouldn’t be so open with his emotions, but in this case, he would make an exception. He had no idea what Crocodile said, but anything that could inspire that from his brother was worthy of concern. He’d have to warn Sengoku, but without any details all he could offer was to triple the response and ambush teams.

“Yeah. He is.” The head of the family sighed in contentment. He was like this ever since Crocodile left. It was almost like the warlord had an aphrodisiac effect on the feathered demon.

Which was leagues better than the last time they met. He didn’t witness their conversation, but based on the carnage Doflamingo insisted on engaging in as they returned to base, it didn’t end well. It seemed the simple act of aiding one another managed to repair the rift. For now. Needless to say, it didn’t prevent him from ruthlessly killing ten innocent people before they returned to the ship.

Resisting the urge to rub his eyes at his elder brother’s blatant disregard of his feelings, he couldn’t help but feel as though he was forgetting something. Doflamingo organized the whole thing (no surprise there), but why would Crocodile leave his territory so easily?

He thrived in Alabasta’s hot and dry climate and clearly despised the north’s cold, wet nature. A side effect of his devil fruit most likely. He had nothing to gain by submitting to the younger pirate’s demands. The only thing that made any sense was that Doffy had something on him, but what could make a man like him bend?

A warlord working with a younger pirate group wasn’t unusual, but something was clearly off. His brother was always aiming for more power, so his next goal would be to earn the title of Warlord. The question was how he intended to get it. The current roster was doing their job and each seat was filled. The only hope he had was killing one, but even then the Marines had to offer the position. He couldn’t just take it. What was his plan? And more importantly, how could he end this before more lives were lost to his brother’s twisted schemes?

How was he going to explain this?

How could one ever explain this?

The fuck is his life?

* * *

Makino didn’t know what to do.

There were so many bandits. She couldn’t do anything. They took Luffy. That bastard Higuma pointed a gun at him. Shanks and his crew showed up to get him to step down. A single shot was fired. There was a bloodbath in the streets. Luffy was taken onto a ship where the Lord of the Coast dwelled. And Shanks lost an arm saving him from drowning.

Luffy was horrified when he saw his hero covered in blood. The tears wouldn’t stop, he refused to leave the man who had risked so much to save him. His siblings were so scared. For as though as they acted, they were still children. None of them should have to deal with anything this horrifying.

They were like her little brothers and sister and she was powerless to protect them. No one in Shanks’ crew had powers, but that didn’t stop them from fighting. But that didn’t stop Shanks from nearly dying either.

Ben said that Shanks would be fine. He even came back the next day to give Luffy his hat, but Makino wasn’t blind. She saw the sway in his walk, the way his remaining limbs shook. She’d was willing to bet her bar that man was only conscious through an entire med bay’s worth of pain killers.

Weeks had gone by and the children hadn’t let Luffy out of their sights. He clung to that straw hat like it was the most precious thing in the world. He wouldn’t let anyone else hold it or wear it. Said it represented his promise to Shanks on becoming a great pirate.

Makino was worried. Soon Crocodile would return to Dawn Island to check in on his hatchlings. He would notice the change, the way the elders had adjusted themselves to physically guard Luffy from any perceived threats. He’d want to know what caused the change and when she or one of the kids answered he’d be furious.

She promised she wouldn’t tell Crocodile, but he deserved to know what happened. She had waited this long, surely that was long enough to avoid breaking her promise. As much as she adored Shanks, she knew they couldn’t hide this forever.

* * *

“I heard what your idiot captain did.” Crocodile was one second away from digging his hook into his desk and flinging it through a wall. It was bad enough that this was the second time his brats were attacked by bandits, but then Makino dropped the bomb that the attack happened nearly a month ago.

Apparently, Shanks hadn’t wanted him to worry as all his brats were fine and the bastards responsible were killed. Too bad that left Bleeding Heart as the sole focus of his fury.

The first mate of the Red Hair Pirates took in a fresh puff from his cigarette. He wasn’t paid to deal with this shit. “I take it you’re not calling to thank him for saving your brat’s life.”

“Put Bleeding Heart on the line, Beckman.” He didn’t care how many drugs the moron was on or how much pain he was in, he was going to answer his questions now.

“He’s pretty out of it, but here.” It hardly followed standard medical practice, but he doubted the man would allow something like that to stop him. Walking over to his captain’s cot, he gently roused the now one-armed man from his light slumber. “It’s Crocodile.”

It had been so long since Shanks lost his arm, but it was still a problem for him. He was getting better, but it was a gradual change. Some nights he would be jolted awake as lightning raced through his nervous system. His wound would burn as he shoved his face into a wall to distract himself from the pain. There were days he needed to just lay down and follow his doctor’s instructions, which included no drinking, no throwing himself into dangerous situations, and no partying. At least he got a hefty dose of drugs. But it did leave him pretty woozy for the rest of the day and sometimes the next one.

Though not enough to ignore this train wreck. “Hey Croc. I figured you’d hear about this eventually. Gotta say, I’m surprised it took this long for Makino blab.”

“What were you thinking?” Pale eyes stared down the drugged up captain.

“I was thinking, I had to save that child.” Seriously that’s the only thing that was going through his mind when he chased that bitch. He was lucky that sea king ate him. Had he survived he would have faced a much longer death sentence.

“I’m talking about your damn arm. You aren’t like me. Your will was never shattered. You still have access to all forms of haki. So why didn’t you protect yourself with armament?” He was a veteran of the New World who possessed Conqueror’s haki. That sea king shouldn’t have been anywhere near him. If he was afraid of Luffy getting caught up in the wave, he should have at least shielded his body.

“I had other things on my mind at the time.”

“You expect me to believe that shit?” Crocodile roared. “You’ve sailed the Grand Line since you were five and participated in more wars than any child should have. The experience should have your instincts tuned to protect you the second something feels off. Saving some brat shouldn’t be nearly enough to throw you off your game.”

Shanks groaned under the verbal assault, really wishing he had a free hand to pinch the space between his eyebrows. “What do you want from me? It all happened so fast. I wanted to check up on Luffy. He was so scared then I noticed I couldn’t feel my left hand or arm.”

“You are hopeless.” Crocodile settled on that. Giving the room a quick survey, he reassessed that he was alone. “Next time you’re in Alabasta, I’ll have a few barrels of thirty-year rum for you.”

Black eyes snapped open with a childish glee. “Seriously? You’re not fucking with me on this? Alright.” He cheered. Once again his kind actions would prove rewarding for many a night.

“Now get some fucking sleep.”

That earned him an eye roll. “Yes, mom.” Yes. He had to say it.

A growl rippled through the receiver. “Say that again and I’ll rip off your other arm.” With that last threat, Crocodile slammed the receiver down with more force than needed.

_Click_

Crocodile rubbed his forehead, mentally spent. Once again he had to change plans due to the stupidity of those around him. It was bad enough he had to deal with Doflamingo’s obsession, now he had to make an early trip to Dawn Island. People would notice and questions would be asked. He was running out of time.

But this wasn’t about Doflamingo. This was about his patience shredding brats.

Luffy just watched the man he respected lose an arm to save him. It was time for a change in scenery. He had been putting it off for too long. But first he had to check up on his brats, seeing something like that can’t be easy for them. It was one thing to mutilate an opponent or kill an enemy but watching someone you care about receive that kind of agony was bound to be horrifying.

_Purupuru. Purupuru._

Oh, what now?

_Purupuru. Gacha_

“Who died?” Crocodile asked too exhausted to care if he was correct.

His question was met with a bombardment of noise.

“Dad! It’s Sabo! They took him!” Luffy shouted.

“We tried fighting them but there were too many.” Ace growled, sounding more frustrated with himself than the actual criminals.

“What do we do?” Edalyn cried, desperate for guidance.

“Luffy. Give Ace the receiver.” His youngest sounded the loudest, logically he was the one holding the device. While Edalyn was the oldest, she sounded emotionally exhausted, so Ace was the best choice. A slight muffling alerted him to the exchange. “Now explain what happened.”

Ace explained how their normal day in the woods turned into a fight for survival. Five strange men had ambushed the four of them, grabbed Sabo, and attempted to kill them. They fought back and injured a few until they decided they weren’t worth the energy. They hightailed it away with Sabo towards the trails leading to the Goa Kingdom.

Crocodile had heard enough. He was getting his brat back. “I’m halfway to Dawn Island. Start packing your things as we discussed.”

“We’re leaving?” Ace questioned, completely stunned.

“I won’t leave Sabo!” Luffy refused to consider life without one of his brothers.

“I never said anything about leaving Sabo, but once I reclaim your brother, we’ll likely have to burn sea foam. Give the receiver to Edalyn.”

“Yes, father.” There was a light rolling of the R. She must have switched to her hybrid form in order to cope with the stress. Her first exercise, when they reached Alabasta, was gaining control over her powers. He despised those who didn't use all their resources to their full potential and he would be damned if one of those imbeciles was his own child.

“Did any of you knock one of the attackers out?” The more they could learn about who ordered Sabo’s kidnapping the more prepared they’d be to rescue him.

“Only one. I’m sorry.” Her voice wavered in admitting her own inadequacies.

“In this instance it’s perfect.” All they needed was one loose end, one weak link and it would all come crashing down. “Drag him into a secluded part of the forest and have Ace tie him to a tree. Use whatever you have at your disposal to find out everything about those who ordered the attack. Bring in Dadan if you have to.”

That worthless woman was going to earn her keep. She may be a coward, but she had experience, something his brats were severely lacking in. If nothing else having that hulking behemoth back up his brats was sure to make the bastard sweat. A child threatening a full-grown man wasn’t very threatening, but having an angry woman of pure muscle back up the threats made it all the more real.

“Yes, father.”

_Click_

“Damn it. Just one thing after another.” He was going to need more whiskey just to make it through the week.

* * *

It was like visiting a warped version of the past. Crocodile saw Makino standing where his boys normally stood. Unlike last time she was visibly frantic and struggling to control her breathing. To her side, Dadan stood smoking and clenching an unopened bottle.

From his ship, he saw Dadan’s men patrolling Foosha Village with better coordination than he expected from a group of mountain bandits.

“Thank goodness you’re here.” Makino rushed up to hug the man who literally towered above her. Normally he’d turn to sand, but he could see the poor girl was barely keeping herself together.

“Where are my brats?”

“In the cabin.” She answered. Suddenly she slowly backed away as the knowledge of what she just did pulled her back to reality.

“I see they involved you as well Dadan.” Crocodile’s eyes shifted towards the

“Damn right. Don’t worry we made that child-snatching shit squeal. But ya ain’t gonna like what we have to say.” The woman was enraged, bitter, and spiteful yet not once did she dare to look Crocodile in the eyes.

Ah. She still feared him. A wise woman, but not the time. “Whatever information you have I’ll channel my emotional response towards the guilty. You have no reason to fear me Dadan, we are allies in this.” He assured.

Curly Dadan let out a breath in relief, but she still refused to raise her head. “We best do it in private.”

“You should see the children as well.” Makino pitched in. “We’ve had to restrain them from going after the mercenaries and the nobles. They have not been doing well since the attack. With it so close to Shanks leaving I’ve been thinking the first attack on the boys was planned.”

Impressive. Perhaps he was having a positive effect on her after all. But for her suspicions, it did make sense. The first attack to weaken them emotionally while cutting down their competition. Then strike while they’re still recovering but not too soon so that they would expect it. “That is more than likely, but until we have all the information, we can’t be certain.”

“Sabo’s birth parents are apparently some big hotshots of the Goa Kingdom. They put out an order for him to be returned and were willing to offer a lovely bonus if any ‘commoners’ found with him were killed off.”

The brat always claimed his birth family were scum, but this put things in a new perspective. “Sabo has been living with mine for nearly three years, why the sudden interest in reclaiming their son?”

For this, Makino spoke up. Her profession gave her access to all sorts of gossip. “I can’t say for certain, but the bar’s been pretty active lately. Apparently, someone very important is going to visit the Goa Kingdom for an inspection and in order to prepare the nobility is willing to go to extreme lengths to create and maintain an image of perfection.”

“Which means they can’t suddenly have a family missing a son or be associated with commoners by the slightest margin.” From a logical standpoint, Crocodile could understand their reasoning, but that didn’t make it close to acceptable. Sabo was one of his brats, meaning those fuckers were willing to cross him and that was an insult he would never tolerate.

* * *

Crocodile was glad Zala and Daz were with him. The two of them were skilled in stealth operations, perfect for sneaking through an egocentric kingdom like Goa undetected. Normally he wouldn’t give two shits about being spotted due to his status protecting him from nearly all forms of retaliation. But this wasn’t some assignation or blackmailing some government officials. If word got out one of his brats was kidnapped, rumors would circulate that he was growing soft then he’d have to work three times as hard to reestablish that he wasn’t to be fucked with. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t matter where he put them, they’d constantly be besieged by kidnappers. This was just easier.

If nothing else, he learned what had caused such a commotion in Makino’s bar. A Celestial Dragon was visiting and in order to tidy up these fuck wads had burned the Gray Terminal to ash. A lot of homeless individuals resided inhabited the area that was converted into the nobles’ landfill, so they were most definitely dead.

Crocodile could easily envision his brat being infuriated by the lack of empathy. He just hoped he didn’t do anything stupi- Oh shit.

What is that brat doing on the water? With a black flag?

Was it possible to pass on the Will of D outside bloodlines? If that was a possibility, he doomed two innocent children to a life of utter madness. And potentially Princess Vivi with the way she’d been clinging to him.

Okay, Sabo was on the water, sailing a flimsy raft, but he was alive. They’d have a talk about why he was sailing away instead of returning to Foosha Village, but later. He just needed to get his attention, before the Celestial Dragon decided to let off a few shots.

Daz signaled for him to hurry. Looking towards the Celestial Dragon, Crocodile nearly bit his cigar in two. The bastard was already shouldering a rifle bazooka.

No time. Crocodile sent a transparent wave of sand through the air, it clung to Sabo as the fat ass let off the first volley. Crocodile turned into sand and race towards the edge of the docks on the opposite side of the harbor. Mentally he tugged Sabo towards him as the ammunition touched his raft. The small wooden frame erupted in fire and smoke, smoke he happily used to mask his rescue.

Holding Sabo close, he felt the child tremble in his grasp. “Sabo, can you hear me?”

“Y-yes.” His eyes were wide, tears streamed down soft cheeks as he struggled to comprehend what just happened. Someone had just tried to kill him. This wasn’t a simple brawl or watching a loved one be pushed around by a gun totting maniac. He could have died.

“You are safe now.” Crocodile whispered, slowly and gently. Using his only hand he rubbed little circles on the child’s back. “You are with me. I’m going to take you to your siblings and we are leaving Dawn Island.”

“Okay.” Hiccupping Sabo nodded.

“Before we leave, I have one question for you. Can you tell me where your blood relations’ live?”

Steel flashed in those wide eyes. “Third Street, house number 2410.”

“Thank you. Now how would you like to see everything those wastes of life care for being burned to the ground.” The father released a truly nightmare-inducing smile.

“I’d like that very much.”

* * *

In Alabasta, Crocodile met with Cobra to discuss matters of the utmost importance.

“Crocodile, I’m glad you could make it.” Cobra said with an honest smile.

“It’s a pleasure, although you should consider calling me brother.” Crocodile lied through his teeth as he lit a fresh cigar. He was going to need the fresh nicotine if he was going to make it through this one without breaking someone.

The king blinked at the strange request. “Why would that be?”

“It appears my offspring have adopted your daughter.” Crocodile admitted with a grin.

“What?” Cobra didn’t know how to react to that. Sure, Crocodile talked about having children whenever Vivi or one of the nobles’ offspring got into some trouble, but he always referred to them as though they were on a different island. “Explain.”

Crocodile swallowed a flash of rage, as if this naive fool had any right to demand things from him. Slipping into his charming persona, he wove a tale of loneliness, discovery, and acceptance. “I’m surprised you haven’t heard. Now that my status as Warlord was approved and my residence is fully constructed, I have been able to bring my children to this lovely nation. They found your daughter all alone, began playing with her, and proclaimed that she was nakama. I admit, it was a surprise when she started calling me uncle.”

“Vivi was alone!” Cobra had no problem with his daughter making friends. Losing her mother was tough on everyone, but he knew it devastated Vivi who was far too young. It didn’t help that there weren’t that many children her age for her to bond with in the same social circle. He wanted Vivi to have a nice, healthy childhood, but the fact she was royalty meant she would have to live with her head on a swivel. There was just too high a risk with kidnapping or someone manipulating her pure heart. She should always be watched by a team of elite soldiers, to hear that none were in sight is troubling. While it warmed his heart to know that she had finally found other children to play with, he was concerned with who it was connecting her to.

Crocodile had proven far more effective in neutralizing pirate and bandit attacks across Alabasta than any navy force or army before him. The people of the country adored him, some even to the point of worship. He possessed a cruel intelligence, able to calculate the appropriate changes needed to save his country from bankruptcy while utilizing his presence to drum up more tourism. What’s more, his powers allowed him to channel underground rivers to aid the surrounding villages suffering through the drought. There were those who likened his presence as a blessing from the gods.

But there was always something about him that made Cobra’s skin crawl. The way he towered over everyone conveyed an unshakable image of dominance. His eyes pierced the heart and what he called a smile made even his most disciplined guards tremble. Crocodile may be hailed as the Hero of Alabasta, but it didn’t change the fact the man was a pirate. A dangerous one, who would most likely have no remorse killing everyone in this room. And the worst part was, they had no prayer of stopping him if he decided to go through with it.

“I was surprised. Normally you have that girl under six layers of security.” Crocodile continued, unaware or choosing to ignore the King’s mental freak out. “But as a father, I’m more concerned with my own children. I turn my head away for five seconds and somehow they've crossed the desert to make a friend. I shudder to imagine what nonsense they’ll get into in their teenage years.”

The last two words snapped Cobra out of his funk. Children grew up, he knew that, but it didn’t make it any less terrifying. Children raised by such an infamous pirate were bound to wreak unspeakable destruction upon the world. “That phrase you used, ‘Nakama’, I’m unfamiliar with it. Is it a pirate term?”

“It is an old word.” Crocodile settled into a comfortable standing position as he thought back to his years learning the history of the code. “Loosely translated it means ‘people who are close and work together’ or comrade. But over the centuries it has gained new meanings: crewmate, family, brother, sister, mine.”

While Cobra had no intention of letting his daughter become a pirate or allow herself to be viewed as an object, the other definitions weren’t unpleasant. He always wanted to give her a sibling or two, but with Titi’s declining health and his reluctance to remarry, it felt like a pipe dream.

“Now’s not the time to be scared. We should get along.” Crocodile’s voice became a silken purr. “Come now, Cobra.” To the end of his days, Cobra would declare any claim color dusted his cheeks a filthy lie. “Our children have found joy together. Last I heard, they wanted a sleepover at the palace. Surely you could use this time to bask in a lively home.”

Cobra flinched as if he had been struck. Ever since his wife died, it slowly grew impossible to ignore how large and empty the palace was. The long, winding halls, the echoing rooms, the sense that life had once filled every inch only to slowly dwindle to nothing. To have the sounds of laughing children fill the halls was almost too good to be true. “Th-that sounds wonderful. When should I expect them?”

The uneasy silence of the throne room was disrupted by the sounds of giggling and tiny feet slapping against the marble floor. The doors were thrown open as five rambunctious youths barged in.

“Daddy!” “Dad!”

Four children beelined for Crocodile, surrounding the man with large smiles. The pride of Alabasta, Princess Vivi, ran towards her father’s lap bouncing in excitement.

“These are my new brothers and sister! We had so much fun today!” The young princess spoke a mile a minute, her words practically blurring together. “We played cards, sled down dunes, colored, played ball, danced, and threw knives! It was so much fun!” She finished with a joyous scream.

Gently holding his daughter, who was talking more animatedly than he could recall since his queen’s passing, Cobra couldn’t hold back a sense of dread.

“I believe this weekend works marvelously.” Crocodile’s smile seemed to grow more sinister in the shadows. Leaving the king feeling he was nothing more than a pawn to a sadistic predator.

Wait! She threw what?!

* * *

Everything was in place. His children were safe and moved in. He held the King’s trust. His status was unquestioned by the public or the marines. Now it was time to take the next step.

He couldn’t hold off any longer or he risked the lives of his brats. Then there was the threat of the brat destroying the entire country out of spite.

_Purupuru. Purupuru. Purupuru._

Come one, pigeon. Pick up.

_Purupuru. Gacha_

“Doflamingo, we need to talk.” Crocodile said, not even pretending to care for formalities.

An amused sound drifted from the snail along with a raised brow. “Crocy. Isn’t this a turnaround. Trying to flip the script, are we?”

“Cut the shit, pigeon. I have information you need to hear, in person.”

“Oh. And what exactly is so important that you couldn’t tell me during our last meeting in Paradise? Not to mention the time and effort of seeing you, when that meeting was such a disappointment.” The last sentence was a hiss of displeasure. He hadn’t forgotten how uncooperative his wani was during his last excursion to the Grand Line. And after he went through all the trouble of braving the marines to see his favorite reptile, he got nothing but the cold shoulder.

“What happened between my loss and my return.” Crocodile admitted. It was his greatest secret and what Doflamingo had been trying to rip out of him for nearly a decade.

The snail’s smile stretched into an even wide grin. On any other creature, it would have been unmistakable as a threat. “I’m listening.”

“Meet me at my office in two days. I know you have access to the Sky Path. I expect you to be here at sundown. I’ll leave the window open. Come alone.”

A brief chuckle met his demands. “Very well, I’ll play along. But I expect this to be worth my time.”

“You’ll get yours.” Crocodile growled.

_Click_

The dye was cast. Now he had to prepare for the fallout.


	7. Sands of Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As sands fall through an hourglass, time marches forward uncaring of mortal desires. All things must change. For some, it is the discovery of a burning passion for others it is the loss of something precious. Either way, nothing can truly remain. The real question is how much will change and how will you handle it?

“What is the All Blue?” Sanji asked the book lay forgotten on the table. Its pages still showing the majestic blue-finned elephant tuna.

“It’s a mythical ocean said to contain all the fish of the world.” Explained washing a plate until it sparkled. They had hit a lull, so more staff members were devoting their time to prepare as many clean plates and pans as possible before they were bombarded with the regular tsunami of orders.

Sanji’s eyes nearly doubled in size. “Wow.”

“It is said that any who find this great sea would be able to create a feast unlike any other.” The cook explained, his voice gaining a spiritual quality.

“Has the old man ever gone there?” The young chef in training asked.

“No.” The man shook his head. “Sadly no one has been able to find the All Blue or if anyone has, they didn’t share the coordinates.”

Now that didn’t make any sense. “But why wouldn’t they share it? If I found it, I’d want everyone to see an amazing place like that.” Just thinking about it hands his hands twitch in anticipation.

The chef chuckled at the youth’s enthusiasm. “I guess you’ll have to find it and learn for yourself.”

“I will.” Sanji’s focus returned to the forgotten book. His new dream gifted him with new insight into his previous curiosity. New dishes just begging to be crafted danced on the edge of his mind as he contemplated using the fish of different blues in a five-course meal. He wondered how he could combine the different flavors and textures to obtain the greatest sensation.

“Sounds like a plan. Ya’ better head back to the main dining hall or Zeff’ll give you a good kick to the head.” The chef called out, rousing the child from his gourmet fantasy.

Bookmarking the page, the former prince walked out of the room with a smile.

“Why did you say that to him?” A fellow chef called from the next station, where he was preparing fresh ingredients.

“What do you mean?”

“About finding the All Blue. You know as well as I that thousands have searched only to find madness and broken hearts.”

“We all need dreams to make it through the day…and that boy deserves one more than anything,” Zeff told them about how they met, of how the child viewed himself as a failure and disgrace. No child should ever be made to feel that way.

“There’s a difference between a dream and an impossible goal. Wouldn’t it be more merciful to give him a dream he could actually reach?” The man questioned.

Other chefs and members of staff nodded in agreement. It just seemed too cruel.

“Where’s the fun in that? I know it may be cruel, but doesn’t he deserve to see that wonderful place in his dreams. We did and it motivated us like nothing else.” They saw it in their dreams, an ocean filled with millions of fish swimming around just waiting to be transformed into something indescribable. Nothing could possibly compare to such majesty. Nothing.

In the shadowed hallway, tears gathered in the eyes of a small child.

He originally had left the room to carry out his duties but chose to stay a bit longer once he heard the subject. He thought he’d learn something new, something exciting.

It was heartbreaking. To hear of such a magical place only to learn it was viewed as a pointless dream. But Sanji would not be deterred. Steeling his resolve, he matched to the main dining hall. Wiping the tears from his eyes, he swore he would set sail and prove all of them wrong.

_I know it exists. It has to…I’ll find. One day I’ll find it. The All Blue…_

* * *

The desert truly transformed into an entirely new world once the sun dipped below the waves. Blazing heat gave way to frosted winds from all corners of the Grand Line. Those who sought the refreshing comfort of shade took to the streets as the sand cooled to a far more forgiving temperature. Torches and lamps were sparingly lit as the stars danced high above.

Oh yes. At such a view the nation was a jewel worth treasuring. But that wasn’t why Doflamingo had spent the last day crossing half the world. He craved answers and only one man could give them to him (or at least be a touch more reliable to be halfway honest with him).

Crocodile’s personal suite was located on the top floor, providing an excellent vantage point and making it oh so easy to locate.

With a few arm strokes, Doflamingo was perched on a string just outside the main window. He paused to consider his options. He could try checking if the window was open. It would hardly be a challenge to unlock it if it was. But the real dilemma was if he was petty enough to pointlessly break something just to vent.

As if one had to ask.

His right leg rose to a familiar position. Lips quirked into a playful smirk. The stars danced above. And release.

Just as his foot was about to make contact and give rise to thousands of glittering shards, the window seamlessly opened. Peering inside, he spotted Crocodile sitting in a luxurious chair, a glass of whiskey and an empty wine glass to the side.

“You’re late.”

Smirking at the annoyed tone, Doflamingo took the initiative to enter. “Well, it’s not exactly like you gave me a target time. You should be happy I was able to make it here at all given your demands.”

“Trying to break my window at the peak of rush hour when I explicitly stated that I would leave it open, tends to give the wrong impression.” Had Crocodile been a lesser man, he would have surrendered to the urge to roll his eyes at such behavior.

“Well, I’m here now. And you know what I want to hear.” Strutting across the room, his head bobbing up and down like a bird of prey, he approached the man of mystery. Faster than a human could blink, Doflamingo’s hands gripped both armrests barely refraining from shattering them beneath his titanic strength. “For three years you vanished off the face of the planet. I exhausted every resource I had, but all I came up with was that your crew was eradicated during an altercation with Whitebeard. No one had any idea how the fighting started. The smart ones knew a direct fight wasn’t your style, especially against such a drastically superior opponent. The idiots remarked on how you entered his territory after sinking one of his allies. Now I want the truth. All of it.”

Unimpressed, Crocodile carelessly released a breath of smoke in the demanding brat’s face. “Very well. The truth was merely my ship being in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“You expect me to believe that?” A vein pulsed dangerously close to the surface of his forehead as his predatory smile grew.

“The marines were pushing their luck. Sending hit and run teams to assault Whitebeard’s allies and his commanders then booking it when the slightest hint of him interfering emerged. For the past year, his patience was pushed to the breaking point. He lost nearly one hundred ‘sons’ to the Navy and he craved blood.”

Okay, that was slightly more believable. But a few things still didn’t add up. “How did he not recognize you? Even if it had been nine years, he should have been able to identify his own son.”

“I may have killed six of his personal crew sending him into a blood frenzy that only ended after he scared my face. It was sheer instinct that resulted in him cutting off my hand when I tried to sneak in a last attack on Vista.” Crocodile took a sip of whiskey to distract from the growing phantom pain. Just thinking about it made his scars ache. Going back to that day reopened so many wounds and it may not even be enough. But if he intended to gain this man as a true business partner in the weapons division he had to bite down and endure.

“Either way, I’m fully aware of how insane it sounds. I doubt I have all the information to truly know why we were targeted that day. I’d have to talk to the old man for that, to which I have no intention. Anyway, now you know how I lost everything.” The ‘what do you intend to do with it’ was left unsaid.

Doflamingo was many things but currently, he was not what you’d call a happy man.

“You should have come to me.” He wasn’t even bothering to mask his emotions behind a plastered smile.

“And how would I have done that? I was struggling to recover from all my injuries, had no ship, no crew, and only had a vague concept of where’d you be. Honestly, you never brushed my thoughts during that time.”

“Then what?” He bitterly spat out, not at all pleased with the dismissal.

“Afterwards I returned to Paradise to treat my wounds and contemplate my next move when a hopeless romantic approached me.” The scarred captain stopped to retrieve the vintage he had selected for his guest.

The feather cloaked man did not appreciate the break-in information. Not that he saw what the big deal was. Crocodile was a beautiful and charismatic man (when he wanted to be), he had read reports of countless idiots proposing to him or seeking out his talents for years. The very fact Crocodile bothered to mention the latest idiot meant this one was a particular brand of crazy. But who could be smart enough to seek out Crocodile during his time of weakness, clever enough to maintain a low profile, and dumb enough to give him a chance to escape? Above all else, who could have dreams big enough with the slightest chance of success to actually capture his interest?

Eyes widening beneath the lenses, Doflamingo released his grip on the chair to back away into the nearby sofa. “The Revolutionary…” The title was whispered with a toxic cocktail of hate and disbelief.

“Yes.” A sharp tug uncorked the wine bottle, releasing a sharp yet comforting scent that sadly went unnoticed.

Rage.

For a split second, less than a heartbeat, the entire city of Rain Diners was consumed by a wave of pure murder and the impulse to kneel. “Of all people, why did you allow Dragon to touch you?! I know you! I know you’re smarter than that!” Then it was gone. And hundreds of civilians and pirates were able to breathe once again. The ones that were still conscious at least and only semi foaming at the mouth.

“It was a moment of weakness. One that continues to irritate me.” Crocodile finally gave in to the desire to roll his eyes at the childish display.

“He hasn’t attempted to contact you, has he?” That worthless usurper better not have ever considered getting any closer to his Crocodile. If anyone had the right to stalk his merciless ass, it was him.

“No. Although I wouldn’t put it past him to keep me under surveillance. The reason I left is far more complicated than a simple disagreement of values.” A deep breath escaped followed by a sigh of resignation. Moment of truth. “I bore his child.”

Behind colored lenses, Doflamingo blinked. He was not expecting that. He had envisioned hundreds of scenarios that would have convinced Crocodile to both join forces with the World’s Worst Criminal and leave. But nothing so personal. Nothing so against his own self-image. “I assume it still breathes.”

“You’d be correct. His imbecile of a grandfather named him Luffy and he managed to attract two elder brothers. I took a girl in to act as their eldest sister and they’ve managed to enchant the princess into their motley crew.”

As Crocodile wove his tale, Doflamingo settled into the plush furniture with his usual confidence. A wide smile returning to its rightful place, forewarning a horrible future. “And you berated me for taking in children.”

“There’s a difference between purposely seeking out infants and being forced to deal with a brat who somehow manages to attract problem children.” A wine glass was placed back onto the table, now filled with a dark red liquor.

“Doesn’t stop you from using them to your advantage.” Doflamingo took the drink with practiced ease and ingrained knowledge. He knew there was more to this story, but that was all he was going to get for now. Crocodile was a man who valued his privacy, the fact he was willing to disclose this much information spoke volumes towards how much he wanted their partnership to succeed.

He’d learn everything sooner or later, but for now, he’d respect his beloved. In the end, he would have no choice but to come to his side.

“I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t.”

The two of them raised their glasses in a wordless agreement of a long a fruitful partnership.

* * *

In the tranquil waters of the East Blue, a peaceful island lay undisturbed by the casual destruction and malice plaguing the other seas. The people who called this island their home were grateful for their peaceful lives. Dozens of dojos dotted the land, each composed of students dedicated to various forms of martial arts, self-defense, and weaponry. But one child found himself craving more than a lifetime of quiet studying.

In Shimotsuki Village, a single dojo had retained its sign after the lad had gone on a rampage through the neighboring schools. With each victory, he claimed the sign of the dojo as a symbol of his strength, the student’s failure to protect their teachings, and any respect the dojo held.

Why was this dojo spared? Because it held the only person to surpass the boy in skill, speed, and strength.

The protector of the Isshin Dojo was a girl by the name of Kuina the master’s precious daughter.

Out of respect (even if he never admitted it), the boy stayed and regularly trained with the young girl who bested him. They regularly sparred, but he never won. Not once did he emerge victorious, even though they had long since surpassed one thousand matches.

But Zoro wouldn’t say that he hated it. With every match, he was learning and advancing more as a swordsman than from any of his victories. Each loss forced him to reevaluate his stance, his reflexes, his parries. Everything. It was wonderful.

The master of the dojo, Koushirou, was actually very supportive of Zoro’s progress. Inviting him to classes and staying up late to talk as they stared at the stars.

Kuina was a vicious little bitch, but Zoro couldn’t truly fault her on that. She had been looked down upon all her life just because she’d been born a girl. Her father wouldn’t officially teach her or leave the dojo to her. In order to compensate, Kuina had became one of the most if not the greatest swordsmen on the island.

In many ways, this further isolated her from her peers and the other adults. But Zoro didn’t look down on her. If anything, his respect for her had grown. He’d taken to the sword because he didn’t know how else to live, but Kuina…Kuina had chosen the blade to prove herself to the world.

She had a drive Zoro lacked. She had a dream. What did he have?

This was what kept Zoro at the Isshin Dojo after classes. What dream did he have pushing him further? Kuina wished to prove herself so her father would pass down the honor of teaching the next generation in her hands. He didn’t even know who his parents were. He didn't even consider them most days, much less devote himself to making them proud.

“Kuina wipe the dojo with you again, eh Zoro?” A familiar voice called out.

“Shut it! I lasted a full three seconds longer this time. Can you say that?” Zoro turned to face an ivory haired youth and fellow student.

“No thanks, I intend to surpass my limits through sane means.” Saga calmly stated.

Rolling his eyes Zoro turned back to stare at the stars. “Whatever, Meku.”

“I’d really appreciate you dropping that name. I don’t know how you even came up with it.” Saga said unimpressed.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Zoro half faced him. The light of the moon sculpting his face to better resemble those worn by the mythical oni. “You flutter around the dojo like a fucking hummingbird, never sticking to one opponent for long or to one stance. Then there’s a slight shake in your grip before you start a fuckin’ fight.”

Saga narrowed his eyes at the explanation. “Not everyone’s a complete blood knight like you. I have sworn to live and die by the sword on my quest as an agent of law and order. I believe in fighting for justice and a better tomorrow. Of course, a better tomorrow entails we’d never have to raise our blades in anger.”

“Sounds boring.”

“You’d think that.”

“Because it’s never gonna happen. Besides people swing swords all the time without using anger. A thief could kill through fear or greed just as a soldier could slaughter an innocent individual because they were ordered to. If I ever meet people like that, I intend to be prepared.” Zoro finished, mentally growling at the proof another strong swordsman had a dream to guide him while he stumbled around in the dark.

“Some days I wish you’d open up to what gifted you such a bleak outlook on the world.” Saga sighed, truly wishing he could help his friend.

“The day he does is the day he stands as my equal.” A female voice chimed in.

“Ah, Kuina. Come to get in some extra katas before dinner.” Saga greeted with a small bow and a kind smile.

“Yep and for the entertainment. Anyway, I saw yourmatch today Saga and I think I can help you keep balance while you perform the fifth position.”

“Really? That would be wonderful.” Saga responded with pure glee.

“Yeah. Grab a sword. We’ll go through it toget…”

Tuning out the conversation, Zoro stared down his rival. He would find a reason to wield the blade.

* * *

Mom was gone.

Died of an illness that no doctor on the island could treat. For years she stayed strong and tried to raise him with all the love and care in the world. Usopp could never thank her enough for all her hard work. In his eyes, she was the greatest woman in all the seas. It wasn’t a mystery why his father fell for her. He just wished that he took them on his voyage.

She would tell him stories about how they met and fell in love. The man his mother described as a brilliant sniper with a kind heart. He was a man who fell in love with the sea and its glorious freedom. She never blamed him for becoming a pirate. To be honest, she admired him for having the strength to pursue his passion and make something out of himself. She knew one day he would return an amazing warrior of the sea. She simply had to be patient.

Inspired by these tales, Usopp fashioned a slingshot and practiced with empty bottles. If his father could shoot a bottle cap off the top of a building half a mile away, then so would he. For hours he would practice, replacing the string and reinforcing the base. He took up darts and different forms of ammunition. He wouldn’t always be working with the same size of rocks and he couldn’t call himself a true sniper if he allowed something like that to throw off his aim.

Slowly he began to develop a feel for his shots. He became more aware of the slight changes in the wind. He learned how to ignore the sun’s glare. But most importantly, his aim steadily improved.

When he was ready, he set up an elaborate demonstration for his mother. He brought out her favorite cushioned chair and a pot of her medicinal tea. For nearly one hour he showed her the fruits of his labor. Every shot was a bullseye. Every rock shattered glass. Each dart hit the mark. Every seed landed in a cup.

She clapped with every hit. Her smile was so wide and joy-filled tears ran down her cheeks. Her arms were so comforting as she gave him a big hug and kiss as a reward. Like magic, she whipped up his favorite meal, fish n' chips, and told him how proud his father would be of his progress.

But the good times weren’t meant to last.

As his mother’s condition grew worse, Usopp did everything he could to help make her life easier. He did chores around the house so she could spend more time resting, even when she told him to go out and play. Usopp ran into town for groceries every week; he even managed to bring home some extra fruit, courtesy of a sympathetic father.

He also used this time to talk to the local doctor. He said that the best they could do was offer medicine for the pain and try to take her mind off her encroaching death. But there was one thing he could do to buy her a little more time. An overlooked part of maintaining a strong immune system was the connection between one’s physical and mental wellbeing. If she was in a better mood and believed in something, they may be able to buy her a few more days.

So he lied. Day after day Usopp would lie. He would claim that his father had returned and was going to take them away. She always smiled at him, but her eyes were so drained.

But Usopp refused to give up. His mother was strong. She would make it, he told himself, she would see her husband come home. She waited so long to see him again, to hug him again, to kiss him again. He refused to believe it was nothing but a waste of time.

If only reality would accommodate his lies, just once. Last night her breathing was very weak and this morning she wasn’t breathing at all. No matter how much he shook her or begged her to wake up, she never did.

He didn’t know how long he was sitting by her corpse. All he knew was that he couldn’t stop crying. The villagers helped him bury her and give her a tombstone worthy of her commitment. He was grateful for the ceremony, it helped him realize how much his mother meant to all of Syrup Village. The doctor comforted him at the end, said his hard work managed to gift her four more days of life.

Looking out onto the glittering sea, Usopp made a vow that would never be broken. One day he would meet his father on the high seas as not only a fellow marksman but as a true warrior. And on that day, he’d sock him in the nose.

* * *

Nami ducked between alleyways, eyes carefully scouting each newcomer. She didn’t want to waste her time on cheap bitches who only carried a few hundred beri. If she was going to fulfill Arlong’s demand, she had to play this smart. The average citizen rarely walked around with more than a thousand beri or two, unless they were grocery shopping. She couldn’t risk targeting the marines just yet, plus she doubted they’d help her even if she begged them. After all the hush money that rat bastard Nezumi accepted trying to get help would either lead to her own death, Arlong increasing the price, or worse. There weren’t any nobles around, which sucked because they were supposed to be dripping with gold.

With these thoughts in mind, Nami deduced that her prime targets would be pirates. Their greedy habits were going to be the source of her salvation. All she had to do was play it smart and stick to the cocky idiots. If she accidentally targeted a smart pirate group, things could turn ugly very fast.

No! Stop thinking about what could go wrong.

She could do this. She would buy back her freedom. She would save everybody. Mother did not die in vain. She refused to let that happen.

Conomi Islands would be free again.

Okay, okay and there.

Black flag hoisted on the mainsail. A small crew. She could count five walking down the docks, but yelling proved there had to be roughly four more staying on the ship.

She may not be strong. She may not be fast. She was still in the process of mastering the art of picking pockets. But one thing she did know was the importance of stealth and observation. So long as she kept a cool head, she would survive a richer woman.

The signs pointed to encroaching fog. It would be here in twenty minutes and last for ten but would only cover two feet above sea level. In order to get the best results, she had to be on that ship and be at least halfway done grabbing whatever she could carry before the fog reached the shore. Once it did she had to get off with at least five minutes to reach the alleys in order to cover her escape and avoid detection from the no doubt furious pirates.

Okay, clock’s tickin’. And go.

* * *

It was truly amazing how well things were going.

When his children all but adopted the princess, Crocodile considered coming clean about his motivations to Cobra. Their affection would act as an optimal shield against the King’s fury in addition to reminding him of the World Government’s constant meddling with their family. But then a whole new realm of possibilities opened before him. Through gentle manipulations, he was able to use Cobra’s fierce love for his daughter in order to gather more power and influence. He could still rule the nation yet retain the safety and backing of a royal family.

Comment about not being able to visit her in the royal palace without extensive preparation.

Permanent access.

Take note about the suffering of those around him.

Greater financial support and presence with the citizens of Alabasta.

Bemoan the fact their family connection wouldn’t be seen as ‘real’ to the rest of the world.

Official entry into the royal family and ruling court.

Now he was more than a hero of a desert nation and a knight of the realm. He was an official noble surrounded by those who adored, envied, and loathed him, but soon they’d all be frantic to earn his approval.

Cobra himself had slowly tossed aside lingering suspicion after a few months of playdates. The man now proudly saw him as a member of his family, even turning to him for advice. Through Cobra’s trust he gained access to knowledge and data far beyond his original plans. And with his influence growing in the populace and the royal court, he was becoming the king in all but name.

He didn’t even need to start a civil war.

But there remained the issue of Pluton. He now knew the poneglyph was located in the royal tomb, but even with his new status he couldn’t bring anyone with him. Even then he was under heavy surveillance. Crocodile supposed it was a good thing Cobra wasn’t as stupid as he’d thought he was. It would have seriously pissed him off if the infamous artifact of the Void Era was assessable to anyone. Pell, for one, refused to let his guard down and continued to see him as a threat. Either way, he just needed to be patient for a little while longer.

In the end, he was in a better position than if his original plans had succeeded. As a shadow of the throne, he held influence and knowledge few could ever compete with. He didn’t have to waste time caring for simple-minded fools, nor did he have to continue posturing to gain approval. He didn’t have to come up with excuses for when things started to go wrong. He could devote all his time to expanding and solidifying his empire while taking his frustrations out on pitiful excuses for pirates.

Plus messing with Cobra as his children inspired his perfect princess to take up a life of piracy was just too entertaining. He may not officially be king, but with the control he held over this land and its people, he was so much more. Children truly were a blessing.

Kuhahahahaha

* * *

Luffy loved his family.

He had two awesome brothers and two amazing sisters.

His dad was always willing to explain complicated things to him and supported his dream of becoming a pirate. His hook was so cool, but he said he had to wait until he was old enough before he could think about getting one. He couldn’t even set out as a pirate, apparently he was ‘too young’ to start a crew.

Gramps was funny, even if he hit them a little too hard, but there was no way he’d become a Marine. Seriously, there were times he couldn’t believe Gramps ever thought he’d make a good, scratch that, a halfway decent marine. All those rules and protocols. Ugh. Just thinking about it makes him want to toss himself overboard.

Gran-Gran was so kind and her powers were so weird. She said she was able to wash a person’s darkness away or something. It got very boring. But she stopped Gramps from training him so hard when she was around.

Makino was so gentle with them. She was always there when they were just kids messing around in the mountains. He swore when he got lots of treasure, he would send a chest full to her.

Uncle Cobra was weird. The first time they met he stared at them as though he had trouble seeing and he made the funniest expressions whenever dad said something confusing. After a few weeks, he happily welcomed them into his home and encouraged spending time with Vivi.

He could never forget how he met all of them. But one really stuck with him.

Big Sis Eda came to Dawn Island with dad during one of his visits. He said she didn’t have a family and that she was going to be part of theirs. She was really shy around them for so long. Heck, she hid behind dad’s coat the whole time, she practically had to be pried off his leg when he had to go. It took a few days before she even talked to them. Rude.

It was like that for nearly a month until she accepted they actually were a family.

A bunch of bandits, not the ones led by Dandan, she was great, attacked them. They said something about dad wiping out half their number and getting revenge or something. He saw the big fat one lift his club high above his head and moving to swing down on his skull. A shadow blocked out the sun for less than a second. He heard a gurgling sound and felt something warm and wet hit his cheek. Opening his eyes Luffy saw Eda’s teeth dug into the bandit’s throat, blood dripping down as he struggled to breathe.

It was over in a flash. Eda jumped from one bandit to another. The murder happy thugs were powerless in the face of the protective nine-year-old. When the last bandit lay dead, she finally faced them. She was coated in blood, arms covered in strange black marks, nails grown and sharpen to function as razor-sharp claws. She stared at them all as though expecting to be screamed at or attacked. Things only got weird when Luffy told her how cool she was followed by Ace and Sabo thanking her for protecting them even if they could have handled them herself. Her eyes got wide, like super mega wide. Her lips started to quiver and she lunged towards the boys. The four of them toppled down as her arms wrapped around them. Before any questions could be made, they heard a wonderfully horrible sound. The sound of heartfelt crying. Eda crushed her siblings to her chest as the sensation of belonging filling her being.

After an hour they returned home to get cleaned up and change clothes. Eda shared her story and by the end, they (yes, even Luffy) understood why she acted in such a way. After everyone in her former life treatment her existence as a curse, she expected the same from them. Ace promised her she’d never feel that way again in their family. Smiling she finally answered one of Luffy’s questions. Her dream was to become a pirate and join a crew that would always accept her. They spent the rest of the day sharing stories about different pirate adventures and their dreams that guided them to the open sea.

It was that moment on she truly became his Big Sis Eda.

When he was eight Dad had big news. Apparently ever since he became a Warlord, he’s been working to build a safe place for everyone. He’d been putting it off due to their connection to Dawn Island and the village. However, Sabo’s kidnapping and near-death at the hands of a Celestial Dragon, along with him nearly being drowned, was the final motivation he needed. He had discussed it with Makino and both agreed their safety outweighed everything else.

When they loaded the last of their possessions on his ship, the entire town came out to see them off. Everyone wishing them well and to watch out for each other. It was awesome, except for seeing Makino cry. He didn’t like seeing her upset. Dad explained that she was simply overcome with emotions, it didn’t mean she was necessarily sad. Besides he could always visit as a proper pirate just like he said.

* * *

Jinbe was not a man who was reckless in expressing pride and when he did it was always carefully calculated to be directed at those who fully deserved it. He was proud when he mastered Fish-Man karate and Fish-Man jujitsu at such a young age. He was proud to serve an icon such as Fisher Tiger in their quest to free innocents from the horrors of the collars. He was proud to work alongside the likes of Whitebeard in defending his countrymen.

But today all his pride is directed towards one woman. A woman who truly embodied all the hope and purity in the world. For years, Queen Otohime had struggled to aid her people and halt the cycle of pointless wrath. Her actions against the building anger past slaves and those who watched their loved ones be collared had been met with hostility. Some even viewed her mercy as an insult. Even so, she never gave up hope, no matter how abysmal her chances. She did everything in her power to teach and defend.

Even in the face of pure evil, she refused to give up her morals. Never would anyone suspect such a frail woman capable of possessing the heart of a saint and the will of a dragon. He was not ashamed to admit having been one of the thousands to doubt her capabilities in the past. He, like many, did not believe in a better tomorrow after spending decades in the dark, then she wrenched the curtain away revealing a new dawn.

On this day, he was proud to guard her and her family. For on this day, Queen Otohime was meeting with World Government Commander-in-Chief Kong and Fleet Admiral Sengoku to begin the process of drafting new treaties and redrawing borders. His recent invitation to join the Seven Warlords of the Sea aiding in expediting the process.

The future was starting to feel brighter. Perhaps the children he looked after wouldn’t know of a world without chains and collars, but it would lay the foundation for a time when that dream would be a reality.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In similar stories, I've seen authors use Crocodile's status as a parent to soften him up. I just want to make it clear that I'm keeping our scarred captain as a complete monster. He is a pirate who spent decades killing, maiming, and destroying the lives of thousands and that ain't gonna change.  
> The man may be a father, but at his core, he is a monster and he has accepted that. If anything he's proud of it.  
> I hope you enjoyed the chapter. The siblings are fully settled in and you got a peek into the majority of the crew as they're maturing.


End file.
